


The Ever After

by websters_lieb



Series: The Ever After [2]
Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eddie Lives, Eddie is alive and well, F/M, Fix-It, Getting Together, M/M, Movie: IT Chapter Two, Post-Pennywise (IT), Stan is still dead but he will not be forgotten here, and richie is besotted, post It Chapter 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-11 10:07:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20544380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/websters_lieb/pseuds/websters_lieb
Summary: Eddie lives, and life goes on.OrThe story of how Richie and Eddie sort out their shit and realize that they've been in love the whole damn time while they work towards their happily ever afters.





	1. One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The losers reflect and decide where they go from here.

It’s two a.m. and there are five visitors in Eddie’s hospital room.

Visiting hours technically ended hours ago, but in their little group they have two enormously wealthy titans of their respective industries, one famous comedian, the writer of some of the most popular horror novels of the last twenty years, and a man who is generally respected by the more reasonable residents of Derry, exceptions had been made. 

Most of the losers are asleep, two rickety hospital cots had been pushed into Eddie’s private room to accommodate for his visitors, with Ben and Bev smooshed together on one cot, their hands clasped together innocently, Mike sprawled on the other, and Bill awkwardly slanted on the plush chair by the windows. Richie is sitting in the chair next to Eddie’s bed, a position he’s barely moved from since Eddie woke up for the first time nearly eighteen hours before. He’s slumped forward on the bed with his head on his arms, his glasses sideways on his face, his nose twitching in his sleep.

Eddie had tried to get the other losers to go back to the townhouse and get some real rest, but they had unanimously refused. Nobody wanted to leave him alone, and they all wanted to stay together. Even if they didn’t need the safety of numbers anymore, there was something immensely comforting about the visual confirmation of life. They’d already lost one of their own, they weren’t going to be taking any unnecessary risks.

So now they were here, crammed into this little room, breathing the same air, and if Eddie closes his eyes he can almost believe that he’s thirteen again and they’re camped out in the clubhouse, that Stan is running late and will be clambering down the ladder any moment now.

On the nightstand, his phone starts to buzz. He lifts it up and looks at the screen. 

_ ‘Myra,’ _ the caller ID reads. He presses the home button to silence the call and puts his phone back down. 

Richie moves, his hand reaching up to adjust his glasses. The left lens is cracked, and some of Eddie’s blood is still present around the edges where Richie hadn’t scrubbed at it enough. He looks incredibly soft, his messy brown hair curling slightly, his face older now but still achingly familiar.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” Eddie says, “Go back to sleep.”

“You should sleep,” Richie says, “You’re the one that got stabbed through the chest. And in the face. You’ve really experienced a lot of stabbing in the last forty-eight hours, Eds.”

“Don’t call me Eds,” Eddie replies on instinct, and if his heart stutters at Richie’s responding smile then that’s surely due to all the stabbing. “And I’ve been sleeping all day. They keep on dosing me up on morphine, this is the first time I’ve felt properly awake since that first time I woke up.”

“Are you in pain?” Richie asks, “I can get a nurse-”

“No, no, Rich, I’m fine.” He hasn’t seen Richie worried like this since that time that he broke his arm, and even then it hadn’t been to this extent. He wants to fuss under all the care, he always hated it when Myra or his mother tried to coddle him, but he knows it’s not because Richie thinks Eddie is fragile or delicate.  _ ‘You’re braver than you think, _ ’ Richie had said, after Eddie had all but let him die in the house on Neibolt street. Of course, Richie had also then cracked a joke about Eddie marrying a woman ten times his body mass, but hey, it was true, and he wouldn’t be Richie if he wasn’t talking trash.

Richie reaches out gently and presses his fingers to the edge of the bandage on Eddie’s chest. “I thought you were dead.” He says, “When it first happened, and you were all glassy eyed and covered in blood.”

His hand traces gently along the edge of the bandage and takes a deep, shuddering breath, “Jesus Eds, a few inches to the left and that would have been your heart.”

Eddie’s skin feels warm where Richie is touching him. “I didn’t know you cared so much Rich.” He says, trying to put levety into his voice, but it comes out serious.

“You’re my best friend, Eds.” Richie says, “I know it’s been 27 years and you’ve probably got a thousand friends back home with your wife, but since I’ve come back to Derry it feels like -”

“Like you’re thirteen again.” Eddie replies. He feels the same. Maybe it’s the memories, maybe it’s the town, maybe it’s that he’s been so damn lonely for the last 27 years, and having almost all the losers back - having  _ Richie _ back - is like coming home in a way nothing else ever could be. 

“Yeah,” Richie agrees. “Like I’m thirteen again.”

There’s a short silence. It’s comfortable, the familiar silence of two people who understand each other, spending a second contemplating their own thoughts. 

“I wish I hadn’t moved away,” Eddie sighs, “I wish my mom had kept us in Maine for longer, that I had stayed through high school.”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything,” Richie interjects, “We would have gone off to college and we would have forgotten. Bill stayed around till then, and Mike never left, but I still forgot the pair of them as soon as I made it to New York.”

“But I was in New York, too,” Eddie argues, “Maybe, if we had gone together, we could have remembered a bit more. Like Ben with the yearbook page, he never completely forgot Bev because he always had a reminder of her.”

“Or maybe we’d live two blocks apart and still not remember each other.” Richie counters.

“We could have lived together! Hard to forget then, or, or-” Eddie cuts off, “Or even if we could have just stayed friends through high school, and forgotten after, at least then we would have had more time.”

Richie eyes him carefully. “Was it really so bad?” He asked, “Moving to the Big Apple, I was so jealous of you when you left. I would have done anything to get out of Derry too. And it wasn’t the same with you gone, but I always thought that you must have made a ton of new friends, since you never called.” Richie paused, “Oh.”

Eddie shook his head, “I never really made any new friends there, I just forgot my old ones. There were people that I talked to, but I didn’t fit in and… I always felt like something was missing, like nobody could ever measure up. Right up until Mike called and brought us back, I never really felt close to anybody.”

“But you’re married,” Richie states. His hand is still laying lightly on Eddie’s chest, and he appears to become acutely aware of this suddenly. He pulls his hand back, and if Eddie misses its presence it’s just because he’s missed his best friend. Nothing else.

Eddie shrugs, “It seemed like the thing to do.”

“I couldn’t,” Richie says carefully, “I couldn’t marry someone I didn’t-”

Eddie cuts him off. He loves Myra. Of course he loves Myra. He just doesn’t like her much, and maybe having these days away from her have been a relief, but he can’t let Richie say what he’s about to say. “I never expected you to be such a romantic.”

Richie’s eyes widen for a second, a flicker of panic on his face, and Eddie wonders what he’s thinking about, but the expression is gone as quickly as it had come, and he’s snarking back. “Everyone wants a piece of me, but nobody gets to keep a piece!”

Eddie snorts. “That doesn’t even make any sense”

“It makes perfect sense, you’re just slow on the uptake. It’s okay Eds, not everyone has a quick wit.”

“Quick wit my ass, half of what you say is complete nonsense.”

“But the other half is  _ inspired _ , Eds, absolutely inspired.”

“You know I hate it when you call me that.”

“I know, but I need a cute little name for a cute little man.”

“I told you already, I’m the average height-”

Bill’s voice breaks into their bickering. “If you guys don’t stop talking, I’m going to find a nurse to drug you both back to sleep.” 

When Eddie looks over, Bill’s eyes are still closed, but his hands have moved to press against his temples. He sighs, “How are you both still exactly the same.” 

“Is it really surprising that Richie didn’t mature past the age of thirteen?” Eddie replies, ignoring the fact that apparently he hasn’t matured much either, and he hears Ben snort from his position on the rollout cot.

“Chuckalicious, Eds, truly.” Richie deadpans, flicking Eddie’s ear.

Beverly sits up, careful not to knock herself or Ben off the clearly too-small cot. “Oh come on, Bill, I like it when they bicker, it wouldn’t be the losers club if Eddie and Richie weren’t arguing.”

“We do more than just argue!” Richie interjects, “We are vitally important members of this group, and as Eddie’s step-father, it is my right to -”

“Beep beep Richie,” Eddie yelps, “Jesus, that’s disgusting.”

“I’ll show you disgusting” Richie says, sticking out his tongue and lunging towards Eddie.

“Don’t you fucking DARE,” Eddie cries, but Richie has already licked a stripe up the side of his ear. He feels his face flush hot as he pushes Richie away and wipes at his ear. “You’re so fucking gross,”

“Since Stan’s not here I feel obligated to roll my eyes,” Ben says, and they all smile at the memory of Stanley’s signature reaction to Eddie and Richie’s antics.

“Good old Stan the Man,” Richie sighs. “Now that was a boy with a quick wit.”

“He always knew how to shut you up at least.” Eddie adds. 

“He was so prepared, for everything.” Beverly adds. “I guess… I guess he didn’t get to prepare for this. It took him by surprise. Maybe if he had remembered earlier, if he hadn’t forgotten, he…”

“Maybe,” Ben says, “Or maybe it would have made it worse for him.”

“I shouldn’t have pushed him,” Mike interjects, and Eddie realizes that he must have woken up at some earlier point in the conversation. “I told him he had to come back, that he had to, I should have been gentler.”

“It’s not your fault, Mike.” Bill responds seriously, “It’s nobody’s fault but Pennywise’s, and it won’t ever be hurting anyone again.”

“Stan would have come, if he could have.” Richie says, “He was afraid but… He’d never have let us down. He wouldn’t have done what he did if he thought that it would keep us from killing it.”

“Do you think…” Eddie starts, and they all look at him, “Do you think he could have seen the deadlights too? And it affected him more like Bev? In the sewers, when we were looking for Bev, when it got him and it was on his face, over his eyes, do you think he might have seen them, and that’s why it got to him more than the rest of us?”

“Bev saw them too though, and she still made it back,” Richie replies.

“But she’s Bev, and Stan was Stan. He… he was gentle, and scared, and he never wanted to be a part of this in the first place.” Eddie argues. He always felt like he and Stan understood each other in a way the other losers didn’t, both of them overly cautious, both of them more aware of the risks that the others took without thought.

“Yeah,” Bill says, “I think he might have seen them.”

A silence falls over the group as they all think about that, and then Ben asks “What do we do now?”

Bill shrugs, “We go back to our lives, I guess.”

Ben frowns, “My life is lonely. I’m successful and I do work that I love, but I live alone in a big house with empty rooms. I don’t want to go back to that. Not when…”

“Not when you know there’s more,” Beverly finishes for him. “I’m not going back. I’m getting a divorce. Tom is never going to touch me again. He can have the company, the money, I want something of my own, somewhere beautiful.”

Ben gently traces his thumb across her knuckles, “If you’d be okay with some company, that sounds wonderful.” And she smiles at him, nodding her head.

“I have to get back,” Bill says, “My wife must be worried, I took off so quick, and if I don’t write a better ending for my movie they might just can the whole project.” 

“Good luck with that,” Richie replies, “Maybe you’ll finally write a good one.”

Bill glares at Richie as the rest of them laugh.

“I think I’ll stick around here for a bit.” Richie adds. “My manager is not pleased with me for bombing that show and then disappearing, so the longer I can avoid him the better.” He glances at Eddie, “And someone needs to keep Eds company while he grows up big and strong.”

Eddie rolls his eyes.

“I think it’s time for me to get out of Derry,” Mike says quietly, almost to himself, “I’ve stayed here so long because I felt like it was an obligation, but… I want to see the rest of the world now, and there’s nothing keeping me here. I’ll need to settle some things first, but I think I’ll travel.

“Well you’re always welcome to stay with me and Audra.” Bill tells him. “We’ve got a spare room and It’d be nice to spend some more time with an old friend.

Mike smiles. “That would be nice.”

The losers all look towards Eddie, who considers his options carefully. “I… I’ll have to stay here until I’m healed up.” He decides, “It’s dangerous to travel so soon after surgery, and Myra would… It’s a good idea to stay here, I think, just for a few weeks, until I’m better.”

Richie smiles wide “I can be your nursemaid! I’ll find an outfit and everything, it’ll be great.”

“Please, I beg you, Rich, don’t find an outfit.” Eddie responds.

“Too late! I’m already on Amazon!” Richie sing songs, and sure enough, his phone is in his hand and he’s scrolling through “sexy nurse” outfits.

“Eddie,” Beverly says seriously. “You have to send us pictures.”

“I dunno Bev,” Richie interjects, “do you think you’ll be able to handle the pure sex appeal?”

“I’ll have to risk it.” Bev replies, and everyone laughs.

They stay up talking for another hour or so, and then they all drift back to sleep. A nurse comes in at eight a.m. to review Eddie’s vitals and make a few notes in his chart, and the losers start heading back to the Derry Townhouse in pairs to freshen up and collect their things. Bev and Ben first, and then Bill and Richie. Mike gives Eddie two pairs of keys to his loft above the library for Richie and him. 

“If you’re gonna be staying here a while, you might as well stay at mine. I own it, no mortgage or anything, and I’ll be heading off with Bill soon enough anyway. It can be expensive to stay at a hotel for weeks on end.”

Eddie reminds Mike that he and Richie are both rather well off, but takes him up on his offer anyway, pocketing the keys with a smile. 

Derry has a different feel to it now than it had earlier in the week. Where before there had been a sense of a powder keg about to explode at the slightest provocation, a seething anger and hatred under the town’s facade, now there is only tranquility. Eddie thinks idly as he stares out the windows that if Derry had felt more like this when he had been a kid, maybe it would have been a happy place to grow up. 

His phone rings again.

_ ‘Myra’  _ the caller ID reads.

He sends it to voicemail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first multi-chapter fic in a while! It's all planned out, but I don't have an exact posting schedule because college is stressful and I don't want to make promises I can't keep. If anyone is interested in beta-ing you can find me at dreamers-and-magicians.tumblr.com


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie gets out of the hospital. Ben and Beverly make plans. Richie returns to the kissing bridge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the positive feedback! The support is honestly so great and surprising. I hope you guys like this chapter!

The first few days after the losers defeat Pennywise pass slowly. 

Bill is the first to leave, he’s got a life to get back to, a life that he actually likes, so he catches the earliest plane that he can and makes the others to promise to call him every day to keep him updated on Eddie’s condition and ensure that he doesn’t forget about them again.

The others refuse to leave until Eddie is released from the hospital. Ben and Bev need to make plans for their new lives, and Mike has some loose ends to wrap up around Derry before he can meet up with Bill. 

Ben ends up deciding to take some time off work - he’s barely taken any vacation time since he started his company, so he figures that he’s allowed a break - and he spends an afternoon making arrangements for some of his employees to take on his projects for a month or so. 

Bev calls a lawyer and starts divorce proceedings. She blocks Tom’s number on her phone and files a restraining order against him. She was serious about him never touching her again. 

It’s strange, Eddie thinks, how quickly and simply she was able to distance herself from Tom. She had to give up her entire life to do it, her company, her wealth, her home, but she says that she feels happier than she can ever remember being. 

“I didn’t really want any of that stuff anyway,” She tells Eddie, three days after the battle in the sewers and one day after she first met with her lawyer. “I just knew that something was missing, and I was trying to fill it with a husband, with work, with expensive things, and it didn’t work. But I’ve got it all back now, the missing parts of me, and I don’t need those things anymore. I’m done with all that.”

She says it like it’s easy to move on, to let go of the safety net she spent twenty-seven years weaving.

Myra would never let it be so easy. She would never let him go. ‘ _ It’s wouldn’t be her decision _ ,’ Eddie thinks, and then, quickly, ‘ _ and I don’t want to leave her anyway. I love her.’ _

He still hasn’t answered a single one of her calls. There are forty-five unopened voicemails and over a hundred unread texts on his phone. He should answer them. She’s probably reported him missing by now, or something. 

He thinks that, but when his phone rings again, five minutes later, he sends it to voicemail.

Richie spends most of his time at the hospital with Eddie. He’s still hiding from his manager, and he hasn’t mentioned any plans to go home. He gets calls from his manager sometimes, and he sends them to voicemail with a grimace, but he never seems to get any texts or calls from anyone else. He doesn’t mention any friends waiting for him back home, or a girlfriend who might be worrying. It makes Eddie sad to think of Richie all alone for all these years, but somewhere very deep down he’s relieved that Richie has nothing to go back to, because it means that he’s all Eddie’s, at least for now.

They spend most of the first few days talking, catching up on the last decades, joking about their childhood shenanigans, and debating every topic under the sun. Eddie is released from the hospital after four days with a thick packet on how to care for his surgical scars and a bag full of prescription medication.  _ ‘They’re gazebos! _ ’ He remembers his younger self shouting, ‘ _ They’re bullshit!’ _

These aren’t placebos though, these are real, like the clown was real, and his injuries are real. It’s funny how the parts of his life that he had forgotten are the most genuine experiences he’s ever had. Eddie wonders what his life would have been like if he had remembered discovering that his medications weren’t actually needed, that he wasn’t as fragile as he had been led to believe. Maybe he would have moved out of his mother's house during college, instead of commuting from home. Maybe if he had spent a few years living alone, he wouldn’t have gotten engaged to Myra so quickly, desperate for someone to come home to. Maybe he would have lived his own life instead of the life that his wife and his mother had wanted him to live.

‘ _ I wanted that life too. _ ’ He tries to tell himself, but he doesn’t believe it, not really. He’s a risk analyzer, and Richie wasn’t wrong when he said that the job was invented before fun. It’s why Eddie was so defensive when Richie teased him about his career. He hates his job, and he hates his life, and he thinks that if he could do it all over again, he would change almost everything. 

He’s forty years old now. His youth is over, he’s in the first years of his middle age. He’s settled, his life is set, and the idea of another forty years spent analyzing risks and coming home to Myra’s suffocating concern every night makes him want to reach for his inhaler. 

But he burned his inhaler, because that wasn’t  _ real _ , goddamn it. 

He can’t think about this anymore, so he pushes it aside, leaves his phone (still full of unread messages) on the bedside counter in his room at Mike’s, and decides to go for a drive. 

He’s not supposed to walk too much, because the movement could pull at his stitches or jar his internal organs, but he thinks that if he spends one more minute lying in a bed he’s going to explode, so he leaves a note for Mike or Richie or whoever gets home first, hops into his rental car, and heads towards the town center. 

It’s weird, how he didn’t even remember that this place existed two weeks ago, but now he’s driving around without his GPS or a map. These streets are familiar. The years haven’t changed Derry much. As he drives past it, he sees that the movie theater has been boarded up, and a few shops have closed or changed ownership, but that terrible plastic Paul Bunyan statue is still looming over the park and the pharmacy is still owned by the Keene’s and it feels like he was riding his bike down these roads with the losers just yesterday.

He drives by his old house. He moved away with his mother a little over twenty five years ago, and the new owners have repainted, and planted some new trees, but it’s familiar enough that when he pulls over and slows to a stop, he recognizes his old bedroom window. ‘ _ Richie used to climb up the drainpipe on a bad day _ ’ his mind tells him, ‘ _ He’d climb up and knock on my window and I’d let him in and we’d read comic books or listen to music until way past my bedtime. _ ’ 

He smiles a little, and drives on. He sees Bill’s old house, just down the road, and he tries not to look at it. The little boy that Bill saw die lived there, and Eddie doesn’t want to think about that right now. He doesn’t want to see the mourning parents. Instead he makes a left and pulls up by Richie’s house. 

The first thing that strikes Eddie about Richie’s old house is that the yard is a lot neater now. Richie’s parents were never big fans of gardening, and the lawn had always been overgrown. It’s also been repainted, and it seems like a happier place than it had been in 1989. ‘ _ Can I sleep here? _ ’ He remembers Richie asking him, one of the nights that he had snuck up into Eddie’s room, ‘ _ My parents won’t notice and it’s boring at home anyway.’  _

Eddie had resisted whenever Richie asked to stay over, but Richie nearly always got his way in the end. Eddie wonders now if Richie’s house had really just been boring, or if he hadn’t been able to stand his parents apathy. ‘ _ My parents won’t notice _ .’ 

He switches the car into drive and pulls away from the curb. 

He keeps driving, not really sure of where he’s going, and when he decides he better start heading back, he has to take a different route than the one he took when he left Mike’s place. As he approaches the old kissing bridge he recognizes the red car that Richie had rented for his stay in Derry, parked under the awning covered section, and he slows to a crawl as he passes it.

Richie himself is standing further down the bridge, leaning against the wooden railing and looking out towards the forest. Eddie stops his car and get out, and Richie looks over towards him. He appears surprised to see Eddie, and he shoves something into his pocket as Eddie approaches.

“You’re supposed to be in bed.” Richie tells him, and Eddie rolls his eyes.

“I’m fine, I just had to get out for a little bit.” Eddie tells him, and when Richie appears unmoved, “I’ve just been driving, no danger in that.”

“You literally almost died four days ago,” Richie snarks, “Jesus, Eds, are you trying to undo all my life-saving efforts.”

Richie starts walking back towards his car, shooing Eddie along with him.

“Jesus, okay, okay, I was heading back to Mike’s anyway.” Eddie grumbles as Richie opens the car door for him. “I’m fine, Rich, I’m not about to keel over.”

“When we were kids you tried to get me to go to the hospital because I scraped my knee, excuse me if I’m a little worried about your recovering from a  _ gaping chest wound _ inflicted by a  _ murderous clown demon stabbing you _ .” 

Richie makes a good point.

Eddie will never admit that. Or let Richie win an argument without a fight.

“You didn’t ‘scrape your knee,’ dumbass, you fell off your bike and into a ravine. You could have broken something! You had been bleeding without stop for like two hours!” He snarks, but he sits down in the drivers seat.

“Stab wound! Surgery!  _ Demon clown _ !” Richie replies, his voice uncharacteristically high.

“Well now you’re just saying random words.”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“Do I?”

“Why do I even bother with you?” Richie asks, but his voice is fond, and Eddie smiles.

“Because you’d be lost without me.” He replies, turning towards the steering wheel and closing the door, and if he thinks he hears Richie mutter “Yeah,” as the door closes, then his ears must be playing tricks on him.

He watches as Richie gets into his own car, and they both head back to Mike’s loft. Richie fusses about Eddie going up the stairs, but Eddie glares at him until he stops threatening to carry him. 

“I’m not fragile.” He tells Richie.

“I know.” Richie says, “but you’re important to me. To us. So get your ass back in bed.”

It doesn’t occur to him to wonder what Richie was doing at the kissing bridge until he’s settled back in Mike’s guestroom and Richie is off talking to Mike in the kitchen. 

He’ll ask Richie about it later.

-

Beverly and Ben leave on the fifth day after the battle. Since Eddie is out of the hospital and doing well and they’ve done the required work to sort out their respective lives, they’ve got nothing keeping them in Derry. They decide on San Francisco, because Ben has always wanted to see the Golden Gate bridge and Beverly wants to be as far from Chicago as she can possibly get. 

They choose San Francisco as their destination in the morning, and they’re gone by the afternoon. Eddie feels like a little piece of him went with them, just like one went with Bill, and one is forever missing with Stanley. It’s a little terrible, but they promise to call, and Bill hasn’t started to forget yet, still calling Mike every night, so Eddie thinks that he’ll just have to get used to parts of his heart being spread out across the country. 

That evening, Mike is busy with some library business - training his replacement so that he doesn’t leave the head librarian without any help when he leaves Derry - and so Eddie and Richie spend an evening alone together for the first time in twenty seven years. They sequester themselves in Eddie’s borrowed room, Eddie propped up on a pile of pillows and Richie sitting cross legged on the bed next to him, and they eat popcorn and watch movies. 

They can’t seem to agree on what to watch, so they open Netflix and switch off control of the remote. When Eddie’s turn comes around his eyes catch on a comedy special headlining ‘Richard Tozier’ and he clicks on it. When Richie sees what Eddie’s chosen, he tries to snatch the remote away from him and turn off the TV, but Eddie plays up the “I got stabbed in the chest and also in the face five days ago” card and Richie relents.

The special is good - the jokes are objectively funny, and Richie’s always had good comedic timing - but it’s so obvious to Eddie that these aren’t  _ Richie’s jokes _ . 

“God, I was wondering how you could be so popular without me remembering you, but I get it now.” He tells Richie, who scrunches up his face. “This doesn’t sound like you at all. It’s too… Normal. You’re jokes were always the kind that were so bad that they made you laugh in spite of yourself. This makes you sound like Jay Leno. And you hardly do any voices!” 

Richie shrugs, “I just say what they tell me, and I like it, it’s fun to go up there and make people laugh, it doesn’t really matter to me if they’re laughing at my jokes or not.”

“But you always wanted to write your own stuff!” Eddie insists, “And it was good, some of it was terrible, but a lot of it was funny, I don’t get why you’d settle for someone else’s.”

Richie rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “I tried,” He admits, “Writing my own jokes, I mean. Right when I got started, when I got cast on SNL in oh-five and people liked me, and I got a deal to start doing some stand up shows in New York. I wrote a few jokes for a sample act, but they didn’t go over well so the management had someone else write my act. I was popular, so they just wanted my face and my name on it, it didn’t matter who’s jokes they were.”

Eddie frowned, “They didn’t like your stuff?”

“It was, uh-” Richie’s usually not this evasive. He takes off his glasses and starts cleaning them on his t-shirt. “Kinda personal stuff, some stories from college and some stuff about an ex of mine, and I guess it wasn’t what they were looking for.”

“Personal stories?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah,” Richie swallows. Something aches in Eddie’s chest at Richie’s discomfort, and he feels like he’s treading into treacherous waters as he asks his next question.

“But you tell ‘personal’ stories about your ex-girlfriend’s all the time in your act. What about your stories was so bad?” Eddie asks.

“My jokes weren’t about ex-girlfriends.” Richie says quietly. Almost a whisper.

“You said it was about an ex.” Eddie insists. His heart is beating too fast. This conversation should be innocent, but it feels dangerous.

“It wasn’t an ex-girlfriend. I don’t have any ex-girlfriends.” Richie puts his glasses on, and when he looks Eddie in the eye, his gaze is steady, but his hands are shaking.

“You…” Eddie trails off. “You don’t? But-”

“I wrote some jokes about an old boyfriend of mine, and the whole act I’d planned was just, like, very gay. Super queer. Absolutely flaming. And they didn’t like it. It was a stupid idea, especially in 2005 and then they wrote me new jokes and it all spiraled from there.

“Oh,” Eddie says, at a loss for words. “I’m sorry.” He’s not sure why he says that, but it’s true. He imagines Richie in 2005, not quite thirty years old and trying to make a name for himself in the industry. He’s playing it off now, like it was a minor speed-bump, but Eddie thinks that Richie must have been very brave to suggest an act like that, to try to tell the world who he really was. He must have built up the courage for months, maybe years, and then he got shot down before he even really had a chance to try. 

“You’re… sorry?” Richie asks. He’s clearly nervous, but he’s also a cheeky motherfucker who will never pass up an opportunity for a joke. His eyebrows are arched humorously. “Like, because I’m gay? Or because of I can’t write good stand up? Or-?”

“Because some asshole was a homophobic dick, you jackass.” Eddie snarks. He thinks that he might be angry. His heart is still beating fast, and he suddenly hates Richie’s stupid Netflix special with someone elses jokes. It’s still open on the TV, and he presses the power button on the remote with a huff. “That fucking sucks, you should have been allowed to tell your own jokes, even if they were about a boyfriend or stupid or just plain awful.”

Richie seems surprised for a second. He opens and closes his mouth, and when he does speak he just says “Yeah.”

“I shouldn’t have assumed you’d have a girlfriend, it’s just-”

“I always talked about fucking your mom? And I my stand up is all about ex-girlfriends? And I was super duper closeted at thirteen? You couldn’t have known.” Richie replies, waving his hand dismissively.

“Yeah but-” Eddie tries to say, but RIchie interrupts him.

“It’s my turn to pick a movie.” He grabs the remote from Eddie’s lap and turns the TV back on. He chooses  _ Inception _ , a movie that actually requires the viewer to pay attention, and tells Eddie that he’s going to make some more popcorn and order a pizza, and then he leaves the room, and Eddie is a little stunned.

Richie Tozier is gay.

Like, properly gay, apparently, and aware of it, and closeted to the world but not to his managers, and now not to Eddie.

And Eddie doesn’t know how he feels about it.

He doesn’t have a problem with it, of course, and even if he did, he'd never say anything to Richie because Richie is his best friend and he’d have to be a complete and utter shithead to insult Richie’s sexuality after hearing that story. Fuck, he’s still angry at whoever Richie’s manager was in 2005. He wonders if its the same guy that Richie’s hiding out from now, and then he wonders if it matters either way, because the new manager is still not letting Richie tell his stupid queer jokes, and it’s 2016 now so really it shouldn’t be an issue. Or maybe Richie doesn’t care anymore, maybe he’s so used to pretending to be someone else when he’s on the stage that he doesn’t care about being genuine anymore. 

Who fucking knows. Who fucking cares. Eddie’s still angry.

Eddie wants to tell himself that this doesn’t change anything, but he can’t help but think back to Richie at thirteen, the kid who would grab Eddie by the cheek and say  _ ‘Cute, cute cute!!! _ ’ until Eddie smacked his hand away. Could he have-? No. That was just Richie being Richie. They were so young back then. Eddie hadn’t dated anyone until he was twenty, and even then he hadn’t been serious with anyone until Myra. Richie probably hadn’t even known he was gay back then, Eddie decides. 

When Richie comes back into the room with a bowl of freshly microwaved popcorn, Eddie waits for him to sit down and then immediately grabs a handful of popcorn and throws it at Richie. A piece sticks in his hair, and he stares at Eddie for a second before dumping the entire bowl over Eddie’s head. They spend a few minutes tossing popcorn back and forth, and laughing about the mess, and then Richie starts the movie, and they settle back against the headboard.

When they’re halfway done with  _ Inception _ the pizza arrives, and of course it’s covered in pineapple and ham, and Eddie glares at Richie and pretends to gag, but he takes a piece and bites into it anyway.

“Hawaian pizza is the only proof I’ve seen that God exists.” Richie tells Eddie with a straight face, and Eddie snorts.

“I’d argue that it’s proof that God is dead.” He retorts, eyeing his pizza dubiously. 

“Et tu, Spaghettus?” Richie asks, splaying a hand across his chest in mock affront.

“You’re so fucking dumb, Richie.” Eddie tells him, shaking his head sadly, like Richie’s stupidity is a source of great sadness for him, and then they’re laughing, and Richie’s smile is so wide that Eddie thinks it must hurt his face. 

It’s not quite like their late night hang outs in Eddie’s room when they were kids, but doesn’t need to be. It’s better. 

Eddie settles back against his pillows, and Richie scooches in next to him. Eddie leans his head lightly on Richie’s shoulder. They watch the movie, and everything is okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know that most people headcanon Richie as bi, and I totally support that (I'm bi), but ever since I saw the movie, I've been thinking about that joke Richie told in his first scene, and the fact that he doesn't write his own material, and the fact that Bill Hader and Andy Muschietti refer to Richie as gay. So, according to Bill and Andy, Richie is gay, and he doesn't write his own material, but the only joke we see him tell is about a girl. Anyway, I headcanoned that Richie would have done some super queer humor and it kinda spiraled from there. So Richie is gay in this story, but Bi Richie is still valid as hell.


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie realizes he might be a tiny bit gay. Mike leaves Derry. Richie cooks dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all terribly domestic. My kink is apparently domestic bliss. Don't shame me.

Eddie wakes up alone at 8 a.m. 

He doesn’t remember falling asleep last night, but he’s certain that Richie had been laying next to him before he dozed off. He wonders why he’s disappointed to find Richie gone. He wonders if Richie left last night, or just woke up early this morning. He wonders why he cares.

He sighs, rubbing at his face, and reaches over for his cell phone. It’s time to face the music. He opens up his voicemail and starts to listen to his missed messages.

Myra’s first few calls are panicked, and they only get shriller and more desperate as he skips through them. Eddie thinks he should feel bad for worrying her so much. He doesn’t. He’s probably a bad person. He’s certainly a terrible husband.

He opens his messaging app and skims through her texts, which are just as hysterical as her calls, and then he sighs and starts drafting a text. He spends a good twenty minutes typing and re-typing his message, and then he finally presses send.

_ ‘Sorry for not texting, I’ve been busy. Don’t know when I’ll make it home, but I’m healthy and happy. Had to meet up with some old friends for something important.’ _

It’s not enough, not nearly enough. He ran off a week ago with almost no explanation, and he knows that it’s shitty to give her so little, but he can’t bring himself to promise any more. He really is sorry for not texting. Myra is a good person, even if she’s a lot to handle. And she’s his wife, which means something, even if they’ve taken to sleeping in separate beds over the past few years. She had been the one to suggest the change, saying that her sleep apnea made sharing a bed uncomfortable, and he had agreed without protest. But that’s okay, plenty of married couples sleep in their own beds. Not everybody likes to sleep next to another person, and that’s  _ okay _ , dammit. 

Her response is almost immediate, and is followed by several more texts, all demanding to know where he is, what he’s doing, if he’s been taking his medications, telling him to come home  _ now _ .

He shuts off his phone. She knows that he’s alive and well, and he knows that she’s still the same old Myra, and that’s all he has the emotional capacity for right now.

He wonders where Richie’s gotten off to.

Eddie gets out of bed and pads over to the kitchen, where he finds Mike and Richie sitting at the table, drinking coffee. Richie must have heard Eddie coming, because he has a cup ready for him, all fixed up with cream and sugar like Eddie likes it, and Eddie takes a sip gratefully, smiling at Richie. 

“You’ve got popcorn in your hair.” Mike tells Eddie, reaching out to grab it. Eddie blushes, he’s not sure why, but it feels personal for Mike to know that Eddie and Richie spent last night throwing popcorn at each other in Eddie’s bed, even if that’s something incredibly typical for them to do.

“We had a bit of a popcorn war.” Richie says, clearly not feeling the same reserve as Eddie.

“Jesus, I’m forty years old.” Eddie says, “I’m a fully grown adult man, and I got into a popcorn war yesterday with another fully grown adult man.”

“Yep, that’s what happened!” Richie replies cheerfully. “Isn’t it great!”

“It’s juvenile.” Eddie snaps. He doesn’t know why he’s so irritated all the sudden.

Richie rolls his eyes. “God, you sound like old man Stan.” He says, “It was  _ fun _ , live a little, Eds.”

“Don’t call me Eds.” Eddie grumbles, taking a sip of his coffee. But Richie either doesn’t hear or has decided to ignore Eddie, because he turns to face Mike.

“So you’ve booked your flight?” He asks, and Mike nods.

“I’m leaving on Monday to go meet up with Bill and Audra. It’s funny, I haven’t left Derry for more than a day or two since I realized that everyone who left forgot, and that must have been over fifteen years ago. I didn’t want us all to have forgotten, someone needed to be here to raise the alarm, but now… Now I’m free, I guess.”

“You’re a good guy, Mike.” Eddie tells him, “A real good guy, you deserve to go live your life. You’ve stayed in Derry long enough.”

“Yeah, I’m surprised you didn’t go crazier, staying here all those years.” Richie comments. “Granted, you did seem a little cuckoo when we first got here, but I’m sure that was just temporary insanity. You’re acting nearly normal now. Very convincing if it’s all an act.”

Mike shakes his head. “Thanks, Eddie. Beep beep, Richie.”

“You know, I went twenty-seven years without anyone beeping at me, and it was glorious.” Richie says dramatically, and Eddie scoffs.

“You were miserable. If someone doesn’t tell you to shut your trashmouth once every five minutes or so you don’t know what to do with yourself. You need us.”

“Lies!” Richie exclaims, “Slander!”

“And that’s my cue to leave.” Mike says, pushing his chair back. “As much as I’ve missed you guys, I’ve got to go downstairs to help Marge train her new assistant librarian, and I don’t have time to watch you guys shout at each other.” 

Mike gives Eddie a quick hug, and narrowly avoids a sloppy kiss on the cheek from Richie before toeing on his shoes and heading downstairs to the library. 

Richie takes a long sip of his coffee, and the silence is a little bit awkward, which is annoying, because uncomfortable silences have never been a problem for Eddie and Richie. 

“I don’t even remember falling asleep last night.” He tells Richie, trying to fill the silence. “I must have been more exhausted than I thought.”

“Yeah,” Richie nods. “After we had the pizza you just kinda, passed out.”

“Well, I feel a lot better this morning. I guess I needed the sleep.” Eddie stands up and heads over to the refrigerator, calling “Want some eggs?” over his shoulder to Richie as he does so.

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Richie replies.

“Over medium, right?” Eddie asks as he gets out a pan and turns on the stove.

“Yeah.” Richie agrees, sounding confused, “How did you know that?” 

“When you would sleep over, if my mom was gone in the morning I’d make breakfast. You always liked your eggs over medium. You don’t remember that?”

“Oh, shit, yeah.” Richie’s mouth slowly turns upwards into a smile. Eddie likes watching it. “I’d forgotten all about those sleepovers. And Eddie-Spaghetti the short-order cook.”

“They weren’t so much sleepovers as they were a temporary hostile occupation of my bedroom.” Eddie observes, putting butter on the hot pan. “You never asked first.”

“I didn’t want to give you the chance to say no, or think about the risks, and you could have kicked me out if you really wanted to.” Richie says, waving his hand. “Admit it, baby, you liked having me there. I was wonderful company.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Eddie blushes as he cracks the eggs into the pan one after another and keeps his head down as they start to sizzle. “But I didn’t completely hate it.”

“Awwweeeee,” Richie coos, “He likes me, he really likes me.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“I’m sorry, what do those words mean?” Richie asks. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“You’re an idiot.” Eddie pokes at the eggs with a spatula. 

“You know it.”

“A complete dumbass.” He adds some salt and pepper.

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“A walking, talking, disaster.” He grabs two plates from the cabinet and sets them next to the stove.

“You say such sweet things, Eddie-Spaghetti.” Richie says, leaning against the countertop next to Eddie, watching him work. “You could break a man’s heart.”

“I made the man breakfast.” Eddie puts two eggs on each plate and shoves a plate at Richie. “So he should be grateful.”

“I’m getting some mixed signals here.” Richie jokes. “First he tells me I’m a disaster, then he makes me breakfast and tells me to be grateful. How’s a man to go on?”

“Just eat your eggs, asshole.” Eddie responds taking a bite of his own food.

This time, when silence falls between them, it’s a comfortable one.

-

The thing is that Eddie’s not an idiot, he knows that Richie is flirting with him, and he knows he’s flirting back. He may not have much experience when it comes to relationships (gay or straight), but when a gay man calls you ‘ _ baby _ ’ and tells you that you could break his heart and that you’re giving him mixed signals, Eddie figures it’s safe to assume that some level of flirting is happening.

What Eddie’s not sure about is whether or not Richie is fucking with him. Or if he flirts with everyone like this. Or why Eddie cares so much. Or why he he’s flirting back.

Okay, so maybe he’s not sure of much of anything, actually.

But Richie keeps flirting with him and Eddie keeps egging him on and ignoring his wife’s calls and texts. He’s a little relieved when Monday morning comes around and Mike will be leaving Derry that evening, because every time they all hang out together Mike’s been getting this knowing look in his eye, like he understands what’s happening between them. Which isn’t fair, because Eddie doesn’t know what the fuck is happening, and he’s not about to ask Mike, even if it would be easier than trying to understand Richie Tozier’s thought processes. Richie’s mind works in mysterious ways.

The most perplexing part is how comfortable Eddie is with Richie. They had been close as kids. Eddie had been closer to Richie than he had been to the other losers, but it hadn’t felt strange back then. Richie was just his best friend, and he had been since before Eddie could remember, and if Richie called him cute and made him mixtapes and held his hand a little longer than usual, then that was just how best friends worked.

Except then he went out into the world and learned how rare a bond like that is. He left Derry and forgot about Richie and the rest of the losers and he never got truly close to anyone again. Not his wife, not his coworkers, not any of his friends in high school or college, and now he knew that best friends were amazing and important, because every single one of the losers were a part of Eddie’s soul, but Richie was more than that. Richie was everything.

But what the fuck does that even mean? Eddie is straight, right? And he’s got a wife that he… Well, maybe he doesn’t love her, but he likes her, he tells himself, and he must have loved her at some point if he married her, and guys that love women don’t obsess over their childhood best friends.

Except Eddie is totally obsessed with his idiot of a childhood best friend. And he thinks he has been for, like, his entire life. And that knowledge makes him wonder at himself, at his own actions as a pre-teen. He’d always been in Richie’s orbit, always looking through crowds for him, always aware of him. He used to look for excuses to be close to Richie. He’d climb into the hammock in the clubhouse while Richie was in it every time he got the chance. If they were hanging out in a group, Eddie would squeeze in next to Richie, craving the closeness that it forced upon them, the familiar warmth of Richie’s body against his own.

Which, Eddie realizes, sounds a bit gay.

Fuck.

Like most things in his life right now, Eddie doesn’t have the capacity to think about that too much, so he pushes it down (he’s very good at pushing things down), and he thinks that maybe this is just what it’s like to be Eddie and Richie. A little too close, but that’s okay, some friends are just like that. Right?

Fuck.

-

The evening that Mike leaves is bittersweet, because Eddie is happy that Mike and Bill will be spending time together, he likes the idea of the members of the losers club paired off across the country, likes the fact that none of them will be alone now, but it’s going to be strange to be in Mike’s home without Mike there. To be in Derry with none of the losers but Richie. To be alone with Richie, completely, all the time.

Richie cooks for them that evening. Nothing fancy, just some pasta and a premade store bought sauce, but Eddie can’t remember Richie ever cooking anything, so he’s somewhat impressed. Richie tells him that despite the popular opinions of the losers, he is actually an adult and has managed to keep himself alive for the past forty years, dammit. Eddie responds that he’s shocked and astounded by Richie’s continued survival every day. Richie flicks sauce at him with a wooden spoon.

“Do you think Mike’s plane has landed yet?” Richie asks as they settle down to eat. Eddie tries not to focus on the fact that they’re drinking wine and eating pasta, which is an annoyingly romantic meal.

“Probably, we should call Bill later tonight and check in on them both.”

“Yeah,” Richie nods, “It’s weird, us all being so spread out. I know we’ve been doing it for the past few decades, but we didn’t remember then. Now we do.”

“We’re adults.” Eddie reminds him. “With jobs, and lives. We can’t stay in Derry forever.”

“I know that.” Richie says, pushing his pasta around his plate while he speaks. “I just… I don’t want to be alone again. I feel like everyone’s leaving, and we remember each other now, but who knows if we’ll forget again, or if we’ll grow apart and I… I don’t want to be alone. It wasn’t so bad when I didn’t remember but I don’t think I could handle it now.”

Eddie blinks for a second at the unexpected tenderness in the sentiment. He’s always known that Richie feels more than he shows, that he covers up his feelings with humor, but it’s never not surprising to see him express his emotions like the adult that he’s grown to be. Richie may still be remarkably similar to his thirteen year old self, but he has changed, and those changes startle Eddie sometimes.

“We won’t be, we’ve got each other’s phone numbers, and it’s so much easier to keep in touch now than it was in the nineties, and you’ve still got me.”

“But what about when you go home, or if we forget again?” Richie asks, and there’s an edge of panic in his voice that Eddie doesn’t like. “What do I do then?”

“I’m not going home anytime soon, so you don’t have to worry about that.” Eddie says. He hadn’t realized that he’d decided to stay in Derry, but it feels right as he says it. 

“You’re not?” Richie asks, surprised.

“I’ve got to figure some stuff out.” Eddie replies. He hopes Richie doesn’t ask what stuff, because Eddie has no fucking idea how to explain all the things he’s uncertain of.

“Oh.” Is all Richie says.

“So stop being so fucking depressing. It’s alarmingly out of character”

“Sorry that my introspective thoughts irritate you, Eds.”

Eddie shakes his head and takes a sip of his wine. “I didn’t know you knew what introspective means.”

“I contain multitudes.” Richie rejoinders, and Eddie almost spits out his wine.

“Is that a Walt Whitman reference? Who are you? What are you? What is happening right now?”

Richie smiles too wide, the kind of smile that spells trouble. “I’m Richie Tozier, new and improved.” He takes a sip of wine, probably for dramatic effect. “And I’m the original motherfucker.”

Eddie stares at him for a long second. “Nevermind, you’re still exactly the same. I hate you so much.”

“No, you don’t.” Richie teases.

“I do.” Eddie insists, and Richie shakes his head.

“You don’t.”

“I kinda do.”

“Nope.” Richie makes a popping sound as he pronounces the ‘p.’ Eddie glares at him.

“I do right now.”

“Liar.”

Eddie uses his fork to launch a piece of pasta at Richie. “I hate your stupid face.”

“Ooh, mature.” Richie replies as the pasta makes contact with his shirt and falls onto his lap. He grabs it off his lap and eats it, and Eddie grimaces.

“Shut up Richie.”

Richie leans forward and stabs a piece of pasta off Eddie’s plate, popping it in his mouth. His plate is still full. Eddie hates him.

“Never.” Richie says.

Despite himself, Eddie smiles.

-

They’ve taken to marathoning movies on an almost nightly basis since their first Netflix extravaganza, and tonight is no different. They’ve decided on marathoning the Captain America movies, starting with the First Avenger and going through Civil War, so they’ve settled in for the long haul, with pillows piled under Eddie’s head so that he doesn’t have to strain his injuries to see the screen, and Richie sitting with his back against the headboard. 

The first movie is good, but Eddie is tired, and he finds himself drifting off about halfway through. When he wakes up again, the second film is almost over, and Richie is sprawled out across the bed, snoring. Eddie grabs one of his pillows and tucks it under Richie’s head, and then he turns off the TV. They can finish their marathon tomorrow night.

He settles back, and Richie shifts in his sleep. He’s always been a tactile person, so it makes sense that he’d reach out to the warm body next to him. He throws his arm around Eddie’s waist and pushes his face into Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie stops breathing for a second, and waits for Richie to wake up. He doesn’t.

Eddie thinks that he should move Richie’s arm, to have him get up and go to his own bed, but he feels comfortable, and he tells himself that friends cuddle all the time. It can be platonic, and it’s been proven to be a good mood booster. This is just them boosting their moods. Totally fine.

He turns his head, so that his face is buried in Richie’s wild black hair, and takes a breath. Richie smells like shampoo, and a little bit of wine. His face is relaxed, and he looks so peaceful. Eddie closes his eyes and drifts back to sleep.

He next wakes up when Richie stiffens beside him, his arm tightening around Eddie just the tiniest bit.

Eddie opens his eyes, and looks at the man beside him, whose expression is panicked, like he’s been caught doing something terrible. Eddie doesn’t like to see that look on Richie’s face, so he reaches down and grabs Richie’s hand, the one that’s still slung across Eddie’s hip. He runs his fingers across Richie’s palm and then weaves their fingers together. Richie lets out a breath.

Eddie turns his face so that his forehead is pressed against Richie’s and tries to soothe him. He strokes his thumb along the back of Richie’s hand.

And then Richie is kissing him.

Richie Tozier is kissing Eddie Kaspbrak. While they’re in bed. Tangled together.

Eddie kisses back. 

He doesn’t think about it, he doesn’t let himself panic, or think about Myra, all he can think is that Richie’s lips are warm against his own, and his chest feels full, and if he doesn’t kiss Richie right now he might just die. 

Richie’s hand moves up to cup Eddie’s cheek, and Eddie moves his hand to Richie’s waist, and Richie shifts onto his side a little bit so that the angle is better, and then they’re just kissing. Richie nips lightly at Eddie’s bottom lip, and Eddie moans a little and opens his mouth, and then there are  _ tongues _ and  _ teeth _ and holy shit, Eddie’s never kissed anyone like this before. 

Kissing Myra always felt strange, and they hardly ever have sex. She says that it’s unsanitary and he’s always tended to agree. All those fluids and ways to pass disease from one person to another, and for what? Some momentary pleasure? 

It doesn’t feel momentary now. It feels like his whole life has been leading up to this one moment, and if he doesn’t keep kissing Richie he might just break into a million pieces. They kiss until Eddie’s lips ache and Richie is panting into the kiss. Then Richie kisses a line down to Eddie’s neck, and that’s not something that Eddie’s ever enjoyed before but he lets out a whimper because it feels  _ so damn good _ , and he can’t bring himself to give a fuck.

Richie’s body is pressed against Eddie’s, and Eddie can feel his erection against his thigh. It makes his own cock throb, and all he can think is ‘ _ That’s kind of gay, Kaspbrak _ ,’ and suddenly he’s laughing, and Richie is pulling back and staring at him like he’s insane.

“Are you having a mental breakdown?” Richie asks him. “Are you about to fly into gay panic and stab me to death? You have to tell me if you’re about to stab me, you know. It’s the law.”

Eddie keeps laughing, tears leaking out of the corner of his eyes. “No!” He exclaims, “I just, I just was thinking-” He bursts into another round of laughter.

“Eddie? Thinking? That sounds dangerous.” Richie replies, which is rich coming from him.

“I was thinking,” Eddie gets out. “That this is a little bit gay.”

Richie stares at him for a second, and then he’s howling with laughter as well, and they’re clinging to each other in bed, and Eddie just had the best kiss of his life, and he feels so happy in this moment that for the first time in as long as he can remember, he’s not worried about the risks. 

He kisses Richie again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd also like to thank everyone for all the support! It's super encouraging to know that other people have been enjoying what is essentially a story written to help me cope with the movie. You guys are all amazing.


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie brings Eddie to the kissing bridge. Eddie makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is by far the longest so far, and I had a lot of fun writing it. I hope you guys like it as much as I do! 
> 
> Once again, thank you to everyone who's left kudos or comments or bookmarked this.

In a bizarre role reversal, Richie is the one that starts the Serious Conversation.

Eddie has no idea how long they’ve been splayed out in bed together, kissing and touching and holding onto each other, but it feels like it’s been an indulgent eternity.

The thing is that he doesn’t want to think. He doesn’t want to allow his brain to overthink and overanalyze. He doesn’t want to remember his real life, his wife, his job. He doesn’t want to consider his sexuality. Not right now.

Richie, the little shit, just has to choose this moment to act like a responsible adult. Which is just rude, god dammit.

So Richie is the one to pull away with a distressed sound. He flips face down on the bed for a second, making a muffled yelling noise into the pillows, and then he turns onto his side to face Eddie. When Eddie leans in to kiss him again, Richie grabs him by the shoulders.

“I don’t want this to come across like I’m complaining, because this is, like, literally the stuff of my dreams, but Eds, what the fuck are we doing?” He says, and Eddie stares at him for a second.

Richie’s lips are a little swollen and a deep red. They’re softer than Eddie had imagined they’d be. His cheeks are flushed. His hair is messier than it usually is in the morning. Eddie wants to bury his hands in that hair, to use it to pull Richie back to him, to roll on top of Richie and push him down into the mattress and make him stop talking.

But Eddie is forty years old, and he’s not about to allow himself to be out-adulted by Richie “Trashmouth” Tozier, so he pulls it the fuck together.

“I’m fairly certain you know what kissing is, Rich.” Eddie replies sardonically, raising his eyebrow at his friend. His friend who he just made out with.

“You know what I mean, you little turd.” Richie snaps, and he blows a hot stream of air at Eddie’s ear. Eddie smacks him.

“I don’t know.” He admits. “Does it matter? Can’t we just… go with it?”

Richie raises his eyebrows. “Eddie, I’m pretty sure you know this, but you’re married. To a woman. You have a wife. A wife of truly massive proportions, who kinda looks like your mom, but, like, still a wife.”

Eddie glares at him. “Yes Richie, I am aware that I’m married. I was there. And she does not look like my mother.”

“She totally does.” Richie says, a look in his eye that says he’s just gearing up.

“Shut up.”

“Hey, I’m not judging, I spent years trying to get around the bases with you mo-”

Eddie shoves a pillow in Richie’s face. He thinks that Richie is probably doing that thing when he gets nervous and starts talking and doesn’t fucking stop no matter how much horrifying bullshit comes out of his mouth. Eddie knows that Richie can’t really control himself when he’s like this. But. He’s also pretty sure that right now he’d be fine with Richie choking to death on this fucking pillow.

“You’re disgusting.” Eddie says as Richie succeeds in shoving the pillow off of his face.

“And you just spent like, an hour making out with me, so what does that say about you?”

“That I should brush my teeth.” Eddie mutters, moving to get out of the bed.

“Eds,” Richie says, and his voice is serious again, and a little desperate. Fuck. “Come on, throw me a bone here.”

Eddie sighs, relaxing back onto the bed. _ No running away from this, Kaspbrak, you little shit _. “I… I don’t know what we’re doing.” 

It’s probably the most truthful thing he’s ever said. He has absolutely no idea what he’s doing. None. 

“Okay.” Richie nods repeatedly. “How about, like, are you gay? Or bi? Or -?”

“I don’t know.” Eddie repeats. “I,” He takes a breath, swallows down the strange emotion building in the back of his throat. “I’ve never really thought about it? I guess? I always just, assumed I was straight? Or maybe I wanted to be? And I never really dated before Myra, and she said we should get married and my ma told me to ask her and it seemed like the thing to do but…” 

“But?” Richie asks softly.

“But… I don’t know. It’s never felt like that with her.” He glances at Richie for a second and then feels a blush rising in his cheeks. His own body is betraying him. Stupid body. His next words are nearly a whisper. “It’s never felt like that with anyone.”

Before Eddie can lift his eyes to check to see how Richie has reacted, he feels Richie’s lips against his own, and he’s being gently pushed back into the bed. 

Richie is a chaotic, clumsy man with absolutely no coordination and no tact to speak of, but he’s so careful with Eddie when he kisses him. His hands trail lightly across Eddie’s bandaged chest for a second and then one settles on his waist. His other hand comes up to gently cup Eddie’s injured cheek, and it’s so damn tender and sweet and Eddie never thought kissing Richie would be like this. Richie kisses him like he’s precious, but he doesn’t make Eddie feel fragile, just cared for, protected. 

He sinks into the kiss, tangling a hand into Richie’s hair. He wishes he wasn’t so fucking injured, because his thought from earlier about flipping them over and taking control of the kissing sounds like a really fucking good idea right about now. He wants to do everything with Richie. Everything he’s ever imagined, deep down in the back of his mind. He wants. He wants. He _ wants_.

Richie pulls away again. The bastard. But he tips his head forward so that his forehead is resting against the bridge of Eddie’s nose. “I have to show you something.” He says, and Eddie is half convinced that Richie’s about to whip out his dick or something, and as much as he’s apparently into Richie’s dick, he is not at all ready for that. Luckily, Richie does not whip out his dick. Small miracles.

“Show me something?” Eddie asks, still dubious. 

“Well,” Richie leans back on his heels, so that he’s kneeling on the bed next to Eddie, who pushes himself into a sitting position. “It’s more like? Tell you something? But I don’t really know how to start explaining it, so I t’ll be easier if I show you.”

“Okay.” Eddie says, completely unsure of what is happening.

“We’ll have to drive there, after breakfast.” Richie adds, adding to the mystery.

Mysterious is not a good shade on Richie.

“You do realize how fucking sketchy this sounds.” Eddie tells him, and Richie huffs out a laugh.

“After everything we’ve been through in Derry, this doesn’t even rate on the chart of ‘sketchy encounters’.”

“You see, that?” Eddie raises his eyebrows. “Not comforting. Not remotely comforting. You’re gonna continue the recent trend and try to stab me to death, I’m certain.”

“The third time is the charm…” Richie acknowledges, “But consider this, I literally saved your life just over a week ago.”

“That was a group effort.”

“A group that I was a part of.”

“I give most of the credit to Bev.”

“Okay that’s reasonable. I mean she did very little in this specific circumstance but its always safe to assume that Bev is the badass who saved the day.” Richie considers. “However, I did carry you bridal style out of the house on Neibolt street as it collapsed around us. That is like, a fabulously cinematic moment. Someone would have to be an idiot to not include that in a movie about our lives, It was incredibly romantic and impressive.”

“Yeah, calling it romantic and impressive actually makes it less romantic and impressive. Fun fact.”

“Just let me have this, Eddie.” Richie pleads, and Eddie grins.

“No, I don’t think I will.”

-

It freakish how easily they slip back into their normal morning routine after an event that should have forever altered their friendship. The only difference between this morning and any other is Eddie can still taste Richie’s lips on his tongue.

Eddie makes them eggs. Richie brews coffee. They eat together and talk about the weather. They literally talk about the weather over eggs and coffee. Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever been this domestic with his actual wife.

They take turns showering (and Eddie pointedly does not think about Richie in the shower), and Richie helps Eddie re-dress his bandages, which is a little awkward because he has to take off his shirt, but Richie’s focus is entirely on Eddie’s injuries. That pointed attentiveness is the only thing that keeps Eddie from having a skin-contact related mental breakdown.

Apparently a little gay switch in Eddie’s brain has been flipped, and he is now hyper aware of all the things he’s repressed his whole life. Which is a lot of things. Eddie has been very repressed. 

He manages to keep his suddenly rampant libido under control as Richie tends to him in a strictly medical capacity, and then Richie herds him into his car and starts the engine. He seems nervous. Eddie has no fucking idea what is going on.

Richie drives them back to the kissing bridge bridge where Eddie had found him during his meandering drive the week before. He parks the car, but doesnt get out. He rests his hands on the steering wheel and swallows audibly while Eddie watches him.

“Rich?” Eddie queeries. He’s not even sure what he’s asking. _ ‘Are you okay?’ ‘Why are we here?’ ‘Are you sure you want to do… whatever it is you’re doing?’ _

“So, uh,” Richie begins, and Eddie hates how awkward this is, so he puts a comforting hand on Richie’s shoulder. Richie jumps, then leans into the touch. “You know that I’m gay.”

“If I didn’t know before this morning I certainly do now.” Eddie says dryly, and Richie huffs out a laugh.

“Anyway, when we were kids, I…” 

Oh.

“I kinda had a thing for you?” Richie says, the words coming out more like a question than a statement.

“Okay.” Eddie says, he’s going to have to process this, but it’s not entirely surprising. He had orbited around Richie as a kid, but Richie had literally circled Eddie. Ran circles around him. Declared his love on a daily basis. Eddie was apparently just stupid to assume that he had been joking. “Why are we here, Rich?”

Richie seems like he’s trying to figure out what to say. He opens and closes his mouth a couple times, and Eddie thinks idly that he looks a little bit like a fish out of water. “Just let me show you.” Richie finally says, and Eddie nods.

They get out of the car, and Richie leads Eddie over to a banister close to the mouth of the kissing bridge, where people used to carve their initials. Maybe they still do. Richie stops next to the bannister, and Eddie swallows. Oh.

Richie reaches out and runs his fingers across a carving, and Eddie’s eyes zero in on it. ‘_ R+E _ .’ ‘ _ Richie plus Eddie.’ _

It looks fresh.

Eddie is so fucking confused.

“That’s…” He trails off, unsure of what to say.

“Yep.” Richie nods. “When we came back to Derry, it all came back, the memories and the feelings. I remembered carving this while you were in surgery, after the sewers, and as soon as they released you I came down and carved it again, which was stupid, because I’m not a pining thirteen year old anymore, but…” 

“You… you carved this when we were kids?”

“Yeah, when I was fighting with Bill, over that summer, and your mom had you on house arrest. I got into this… Well, it wasn’t even a fight, but Bowers was his usual charming self, and he scared me shitless, and then that terrifying Paul Bunyon statue in the park tried to kill me, and I was just… Angry, and sad, and scared. So I did something stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.” Eddie says. Except it kind of is, Derry has never been a tolerant town. It’s 2016 and a gay man was beaten to death for kissing his boyfriend at the Canal Days fair just a few weeks ago. Richie carving two boys initials into a bridge in a public area in 1989 was beyond reckless. 

Eddie loves Richie’s recklessness.

Woah.

Eddie needs to slow the fuck down.

“It’s… Sweet.” He says, reaching out and running his fingers along the letters. “It’s brave.” 

Richie’s hand is trembling on the banister. Eddie reaches out and runs his fingers along Richie’s knuckles. He cuts a quick look over his shoulder, because once again, even in 2016, Derry is not a good place to be queer in public, and then he reaches up and grabbes the back of Richie’s neck and pulls him into a tender kiss. 

It’s nothing more than lips pressing against lips, lasting only a few seconds, but Eddie tries to push comfort into it. Then he pulls back. Richie looks a little bit dazed.

“I need some time.” Eddie says, because he understands what Richie was trying to say, why he had to show this to Eddie instead of trying to explain. Richie has known how he’s felt for more or less thirty years. Eddie, as he admitted this morning, has no fucking idea what he’s doing. They need to get on the same page. “I need to figure some stuff out, on my own I think.”

Richie nods, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Yeah.”

“I think I’ll walk around for a bit.” Eddie says, “To think.”

“Yeah, that’s a no.” Richie replies. “You were used as a shish kabob far too recently for you to go walking by yourself. If you need some alone time, you’re taking the car.”

Eddie tries to protest, but Richie shushes him and says, “I need to think about some stuff too, and it’s a nice day out. I’ll walk and you drive, and lets meet up by where the fair was once we’ve figured ourselves out.”

When the fuck did Richie get to be so reasonable and responsible. 

“You’re being weird.” Is what he actually says, because he’s an asshole. “I need you to say something stupid and annoying before I start thinking that you’re a rational person.”

Richie smiles, and then says (too quickly, he’s certainly had this comment brewing in the back of his mind since this morning, the little shit.) “Can I get your mom’s number? I need to call her and tell her that our affair has to end, it’s just too weird now that I’ve made out with her son. I need to send her dirty underwear back to her.”

Eddie sighs, Richie knows his mom is dead, so he doesn’t correct him. He did literally ask for this. He’s a complete idiot. “There he is.”

“You love it.”

Love.

Fuck.

“Keys.” He tells Richie, who seems to have belatedly realized what he just said. Richie’s mouth has always been faster than his brain. He silently hands Eddie the keys. Eddie takes pity on him, looks him in the eye and says, “I’ll see you in a few hours. At the fairgrounds.”

Richie smiles as Eddie drives away.

-

The reality of the situation sinks in when Eddie’s been driving for about ten minutes, and he has to pull over as he gasps for breath. He wishes he hadn’t burned his inhaler. Stupid Mike and his stupid fake ritual. 

When he can finally breathe again, he leans back into his car seat and tries to think about his current situation objectively. He imagines that he’s at work, and he’s assessing risks for a client, figuring out if the opportunity cost is worth the rewards.

What are the risks?

He’d have to abandon his comfortable life. He doesn’t like cheaters, and he refuses to be one. If he wants to keep kissing Richie, he’s going to have to leave Myra. 

He probably should leave Myra anyway.

He’s ready to accept now that he never loved her, not the way a husband is supposed to love a wife. He feels bad about it. She’s a sweet woman, even if she’s been feeding his anxieties for close to fifteen years. She could have made a good wife if he had been interested in a happy marriage. He never felt heat when he touched her. He thought that he just hadn’t been that interested in sex, which was weird, but he’d always been a bit strange. He thought it had been the germs, and the bodily fluids, but one touch from Richie and all of his worries about disease had gone out the window. 

Which leads into the newly discovered fact that Eddie is not straight. In fact, he seems to be pretty exclusively gay.

He probably should have seen this coming, but Eddie is nothing if not an expert at avoiding his own emotions. 

He puts the car back into drive, and looks closely at the people walking down the street. Does he think that man is hot? How about that woman? Is he attracted to all men, or just Richie? Is he not attracted to women at all, or just not to Myra?

He learns two things through this exercise. The first thing that he learns is that he doesn’t appear to be attracted to any of the women he’s seen, and while his dick seems to be quite specific in its tastes, he did find a few of the men enticing. He’s attracted to men. Whether or not he’s also into women is still up in the air, but it’s not looking likely. The second thing that he learns is that it’s really creepy to drive your car slowly while staring intensely at every person you pass, especially in a town with a crime rate as high as Derry’s.

He picks up the speed and puts his eyes back on the road.

Okay, so he’s already established that he’s at least a little bit queer, and now he’s reached the working hypothesis that he’s probably 100% gay. _ ‘Fag,’ _ he remembers Henry Bowers and his gang shouting as Eddie passed them in the hall at school. _ ‘Keep on walking, you little fag. Go find your fucking boyfriend.’ _

He grits his teeth. Henry Bowers might have been right about his sexuality, but Henry Bowers is also dead now. Eddie stabbed him, and Richie finished the job. _ ‘Killed by a pair of queers _.’ Eddie thinks to himself with a sick kind of satisfaction. It’s a fitting end for a piece of shit like Bowers.

Eddie returns to his analysis as he makes a random turn. 

He appears to have two options in front of him.

One: push down everything he’s learned about himself. Go back to Myra and his job and his life. Try to forget all over again.

He thinks about what Richie had said the day before. _ ‘I don’t want to be alone anymore. _’

Unacceptable.

Two: Be true to himself. Leave Myra. Leave it all and start over with Richie by his side. Take a risk.

He doesn’t know if Richie is looking for a relationship, or how serious this is to him. Yeah, he carved their initials on the kissing bridge, but maybe that was just leftover affection from their childhoods. Maybe he’s walking around right now thinking about how this is all a mistake. Maybe Eddie will take a risk on him and it will all blow up in his face. Maybe Richie isn’t interested in actually being with Eddie and all his neurosis.

Or maybe it’ll be the best fucking choice Eddie’s ever made in his pathetic life.

Option two is more precarious. It has a lot of variables and the potential to be a complete disaster. It’s also the only option Eddie thinks he can live with.

He drives to the fairgrounds, parks his car, and buys a coffee at a local café, settling in at an outdoor table to keep an eye out for Richie.

He’s really fucking doing this.

He waits.

-

Richie arrives almost an hour later, and Eddie resists asking what the fuck took him so long. Now is not the time for that. He pulls himself together. 

He sees Richie before Richie sees him, and he thinks that the other man looks nervous. He’s playing with a leather bracelet on his left wrist, a habit he developed as a child. The familiar action is comforting. Eddie waves at him, and Richie finally notices him, and is relief washes over his face. Eddie’s heart is no longer in his chest. It’s in his throat. It’s going to fucking choke him. He swallows it down.

“Hey,” He says, getting up and pulling out a chair for Richie. Like he would on a date. _ ‘Stop thinking so damn much,’ _ He tells himself. “Do you want a coffee, or something?”

Richie smiles at him. “I’m good, thanks Eds.”

They sit down.

There’s a beat of silence.

And then another.

Eddie is the one who breaks it. Why is Richie choosing now of all times to keep his mouth shut?

“I’m leaving Myra.” He says. _ ‘Really getting straight to it, aren’t you Eddie?’ _ He thinks, then, _ ‘Fuck off, brain, I’m doing something here’ _

He might be going insane.

“Huh?” Richie says, he looks so damned surprised, as if he didn’t spend this morning kissing Eddie with so much fucking yearning that Eddie thought his heart would break in half. As if Eddie hadn’t been kissing him back the same way. 

“As soon as I head home, I mean. I should do it in person, we’ve been married for almost fifteen years, I can’t just like, end it with a text.” Eddie clarifies.

“You’re… You’re getting a divorce?”

“Yeah, if she doesn’t, like, kill me. Or lock me in the basement or something. What the fuck did you think I was gonna do?”

“I mean, I dropped a lot on you today, I thought you’d be freaking out, not like, deciding to leave your wife.”

“Oh, I’m totally freaking the fuck out,” Eddie confirms. “But I also…” He trails off, suddenly feeling nervous. He’s seriously fucking done with all the feelings he’d been experiencing today. Why can’t his heart or his brain chill for one fucking second. “I liked what we did this morning.” He says carefully, “A lot. More than I thought I could like something like that.”

“You liked kissing me.” Richie says slowly, like he’s processing the fact. If he doesn’t start contributing to this conversation in the next minute or so Eddie is going to punch him in the face.

“No, I spent an hour making out with you this morning because I hated it, I thought it would be fun to cheat on my wife with absolutely no positive results.” Eddie snaps, and Richie’s still making that stupid face.

“Pull it together, Rich.” Eddie says, snapping his fingers about two inches away from Richie’s glasses. “I’m gonna need you to like, say some words, because I need to know if this,” he gestures between them, “is something you’d be interested in.”

“This,” Richie says, making the same gesture, “Like, you and me? You want that?”

“Jesus fucking christ you’re an idiot.” Eddie replies, dropping his head into his hands. His injured cheek aches at the contact, but he ignores it, his need to be dramatic is more pressing than his pain in this moment. 

“Yeah,” Richie agrees, “So you’re gonna have to spell it out for me. What exactly are you saying?”

“I want to give this a try!” Eddie exclaims, a little too loud. “You and me, I want to see if we work.” He pauses, “If you want to.”

“Of course I fucking want to.” Richie replies, his voice just as agitated as Eddie’s. “I’ve been in love with you for like my entire life. Even when I didn’t remember you I was in love with you I was fucking gone for you. It’s why I never had a serious relationship, it never measured up, I just didn’t know what it wasn’t measuring up to. Of course I want to!”

“Okay!” Eddie just about yells. A couple sitting nearby looks over at them curiously. “So go on a date with me!”

“I’ll take you on a date right fucking now!” Richie yells back, the couple is fully staring at them now.

“Good!” Eddie replies, “Let’s get lunch! And talk!”

“Good!” Richie counters, “Why are we yelling?!?”

“Because you’re an idiot!” Eddie exclaims. It’s true. Richie is the biggest fucking dumbass Eddie has ever met in his life and Eddie is going to date him so fucking hard.

Richie’s smile is so wide that it looks painful. “So are you!” 

“Because we’re both idiots!” Eddie amends. He’s smiling too, and he thinks that they’re going to be a disaster together, that they’re lives are about to descend into complete and utter chaos.

And then Richie is kissing him and Eddie thinks _ ‘this is the best decision I’ve ever made,’ _and he’s kissing Richie back, this homophobic town be damned.

He hears clapping and looks over his shoulder. The couple from earlier appear to be giving them a round of applause. Eddie blushes at the knowledge that these random people just watched him and Richie yell at each other about their feelings and then make out. He prefers this to, like, getting the shit beaten out of him by a bunch of homophobes, but he’s starting to regret meeting up with Richie in public to do this. He should have known that neither of them were capable of being chill for longer than five minutes at a time.

Richie doesn’t appear to feel the same way. He’s smiling and waving over at the couple. “Aren’t I the luckiest guy in the world?” He yells over to them. “Look at how fucking cute this guy is!”

The girl nods while the guy laughs, and Eddie thinks that he must be the color of a fucking tomato. “This is so fucking embarassing” he mutters, but Richie ignores him.

“Got any suggestions for a good place to go on a lunch date?” Richie asks. “I can only provide the best for my Spaghetti-Man.”

Richie has somehow managed to make this more embarrassing. Eddie considers jumping into the nearest storm drain. Sure, there’s a chance he’ll get murdered by a psycho clown, but he’s like 99% sure that they really killed it this time, and he’s willing to take his chances if it means getting out of this situation.

The couple actually does have a suggestion for them, gesturing down the street and saying the name of a restaurant, and Richie thanks them and drags Eddie along down the street. Eddie grumbles at him the whole time, but Richie just smiles back. 

“You liiiiiike me.” He sing songs at Eddie. “You really like meeeeeeeee. You’re going on a date with meeeeeeeee.”

Eddie scowls. “You’ve apparently been in love with me for thirty years, you have no room to talk.”

“Yeah, but you liiiiiiiiiiiike meeeeeeeee.” Richie says, and he’s so damn happy that Eddie can’t help but smile. He tries to turn his head so that Richie can’t see, but Richie’s smile gets impossibly wider and he knows that he’s been had.

The restaurant isn’t crowded, but there’s enough people there at two in the afternoon for Eddie to think that this place must be pretty popular. The hostess says that there’s an open table for two, and she leads them through the restaurant and hands them their menus, telling them their waitress will be with them soon as she leaves. 

It feels the same as all the other times that they’ve gotten food together in the last couple weeks, but now Richie holds his hand across the table and smiles bashfully at Eddie every couple minutes, because apparently Richie Tozier is a closet romantic. They talk about their afternoons as they look through their menus. Apparently Richie had walked about everywhere he could think of before heading to the fairgrounds to meet Eddie. 

“I was worried that you’d like, gotten your stuff from Mikes and jumped town. Gotten out of dodge.” 

Eddie kicks him under the table and says, “You’re an idiot.” And Richie really shouldn’t look so pleased when he’s being insulted.

The waitress comes and takes their orders, smiling at them blandly. The food comes quickly, and Eddie reluctantly thinks that the random couple had made a good recommendation. 

Eventually the conversation works its way back over to Myra, because Eddie is still married and that’s kind of a big fucking deal. Eddie tries to explain his decision, which is hard because he’s not exactly sure when he first started thinking about leaving Myra. He thinks its been on his mind for a while.

“I don’t think we’ve been happy for a very long time,” He admits to Richie, “I’m not sure we ever really were, we got married so young, and there was never any passion. I just wanted someone to take care of me, and she wanted someone to dote over.” 

“You literally married your mom, dude.” Richie replies. And maybe there’s some truth to that, but Eddie doesn’t want to fucking think about it because _ ew _.

“Beep beep, Richie, that’s fucking disgusting.” Eddie says, and Richie mimes zipping his lips shut.

“I was serious about doing it in person though.” He continues, “She deserves that much. I can’t give her much of an explanation about why I left, but I can explain why I’m not coming back.”

“So you’re heading back to New York?” Richie inquires, clearly dancing around the question he really wants to ask. 

“Not yet.” Eddie shakes his head. “I want to heal up a bit more, and I was wondering… If you would come with me? I’ll need to stay in the city a couple days, I’ve got to give my notice at work. I’ve been on unpaid leave since I came to Derry and I want to resign the right way, try not to ruffle any feathers. That’ll take a few days but then we can go wherever.”

“You’re quitting your job?” Richie asks, “Wait, you want me to come with you? That was a lot of information all at once, Eds.”

“I want to start over.” Eddie says. “I’ve been thinking about it since before Bev and Ben left. I’m tired of doing the safe thing. I want to take a risk.”

“I think that’s a fantastic fucking idea.” Richie tells him, and Eddie likes that Richie approves of his decision. 

“Oh fuck.” Richie says suddenly, and Eddie looks up, alarmed. “We’re going to have to explain this to the rest of the losers.”

“Oh.” Eddie replies. “Fuck.”

“They’ll have _ questions _, and Bev is going to be so fucking smug. She told me to just ask you out after that first evening. God dammit.”

“Well,” Eddie says, considering. “We could just… Send them a text and then turn off our phones for the evening.”

Richie makes eye contact with him, grinning. “Now that’s an idea.”

“We’d have to stay in, though.” Eddie continues. “If we turned off our phones. We’d have no choice.”

“Absolutely no choice.” Richie agrees.

“And we’d have to amuse ourselves somehow.”

“Of course we would.” 

A beat passes.

“Just to be clear here though, we’re talking about fucking, right? That’s what the amusement is? We’re both on the same page here? Like, maybe not _ fucking,_ fucking, but screwing around? Playing a game of hide the banana? Mutually jerking it? Sixty-nine-ing?”

“You’re ruining it. I’ve changed my mind.” Eddie says dryly. Richie’s eyes go wide.

“Wait! No! I’ll be good, no more sex talk from Trashmouth Tozier, I promise.”

"Hm." Eddie hums, tilting his head slightly.

"Edddiiiiieeeeeeeeee" Richie whines at him.

"I'll consider it." Eddie says, as if he'd say ever actually say no. 

Richie cheers, and Eddie restrains himself from starting a food fight in this nice restaurant.

-

Richie sends a text to the losers’ group chat later that night. It reads: _ ‘Richie and Eds sitting in a tree, F U C K I N G.’ _

Eddie immediately replies with, _ ‘Please disregard Richie. He’s an idiot.’ _ and then types out the actual message he had planned out, _ ‘Richie and I went out on a date today, and we’re seeing where it goes from here. I’ll explain more the next time we all talk.’ _

They turn off their phones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact! Eddie calls Richie an idiot five separate times in this chapter.


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie and Eddie spend the night together. The losers have a conference call. Richie and Eddie have an unexpected visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT NOTE: the rating went up to explicit with this chapter. It's the first two thousand words, so If you're not into that, just skip to the first line break and read from there, you won't miss anything plot-related.

Eddie is nervous. 

He really shouldn’t be, he’s the one that suggested spending the night in, that implied that sex was on the table. He’s the one that sent that final message to the losers and then turned off his phone. This was his fucking idea.

And he’s scared shitless.

They set up in Eddie’s room like any other night, Richie making a bag of popcorn and Eddie picking out something to watch on Netflix. They really should cut down on all the popcorn or they’re going to get hypertension. 

_ ‘Now is not the time, Kaspbrak _ ,’ Eddie thinks to himself, _ ‘focus on the task at hand _.’

He picks out a TV show, not really paying attention to his choice. 

Should he take off his shirt? His pants? He certainly shouldn’t be wearing socks for this. He pulls his socks off his feet and flings them across the room. Shit, he should have put them in the laundry basket. Should they have bought lube? He’s not ready to have penetrative sex, physically or emotionally, but maybe lube would be helpful for other things? He’s not sure.

He’s watched gay porn a few times, telling himself that he was just curious, but they never showed lube being applied in those videos. It must have happened at some point, but it was always off screen.

_ ‘You’re being an idiot.’ _ He thinks, but what else is new? He’s apparently managed to ignore his own sexuality for years through willpower alone. 

He sits on the bed. Should he put his feet up? He does. That doesn’t feel right. He crosses his legs and leans against the headboard. Now he feels like a five year old sitting criss-cross-applesauce. He extends his legs again.

“You know,” Richie says from where he’s standing at the open doorway, holding a bowl of popcorn. Eddie jumps about a foot off the damn bed. “We don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to. There’s no reason to be nervous.”

Eddie glares at him. “I’m not nervous, asshole.” 

He’s a liar. Judging by Richie’s face, Richie is aware of the fact that he’s a liar.

“Eddie-” Richie begins.

“Just bring me the fucking popcorn and take a seat.”

Richie does.

Eddie presses a button on the remote. _ Friends _ starts to play. 

“I’ve never actually watched this show.” Richie tells him. “I know it was really big when we were in our twenties, but I somehow never saw a single episode. I’ve used my ignorance as a talking point for a while. You’re ruining my talking point.”

Eddie stares at him. “How the fuck have you never watched _ Friends _?”

“I dunno,” Richie shrugs. “I guess it didn’t seem that interesting to me. I mean, the title kind of explains it all. Friends. I like shows with action.”

“Have you seen How I Met Your Mother either, or Seinfeld, or Will and Grace?”

“I’ve seen Will and Grace. I’m a gay guy who grew up in the 80’s, of course I’ve seen Will and Grace, it was groundbreaking.” Richie replies.

“But the other two? Have you seen those?” Eddie demands.

“No”

“Jesus. We’re watching all ten seasons of friends right now. It’s gonna be a long night.”

Richie makes a longsuffering sound and Eddie tosses a piece of popcorn at his head.

They make it through three episodes.

Richie spends the entire time making snarky commentary about stupid things the characters do. He’s right, for the most part, and whenever he makes fun of Ross Eddie snort laughs, but he’s also really fucking annoying and Eddie’s about ready to tape is mouth shut.

“Will you shut the fuck up and watch the show?” He demands, and he really shouldn’t have said that because it gives Richie the perfect opportunity to be a cliche.

“Make me.” Richie says, predictably. And Eddie should just shove popcorn in his mouth or tell him to fuck off, but the invitation is clear and Eddie has never been one to back down from a fight, so he leans forward and kisses Richie roughly.

As gentle as Richie has been with Eddie up to this point, he gives as good as he takes now. Eddie bites at Richie’s lip and Richie actually growls (which is irritatingly hot) and nips back, and then the kiss is all teeth and tongues and hands grabbing at clothes. Eddie moves carefully, because despite the fact that no internal organs were majorly damaged when he was skewered and he’s been healing remarkably quickly, his chest still fucking hurts when he moves too suddenly. He hoists one leg up so that he’s straddling Richie’s lap, and Riche moans in response, dropping his hands to Eddie’s waist. 

He’s never straddled anyone before, never been with a man at all, but like most things that he does with Richie, this comes naturally to him. He yanks at Richie’s collar so that Richies lips meet his again, and then he tangles his hands in Richie’s hair, and _ yes _, this feels right. He feels wild, and raw, and like this is what he’s supposed to be doing. He hasn’t felt this absolutely sure of anything for a long fucking time, and he breathes in the feeling. 

He reaches back and grabs one of Richie’s hands, moving it downward so that it’s against his ass, and Richie fucking whimpers, and Eddie wants to hear that sound again. Richie moves his other hand down as well, and he _ squeezes _ , and now Eddie is whimpering, and Richie leans forward and kisses him again, and Eddie’s brain is empty of any thoughts but _ yes _ and _ Richie _.

He’s the one that reaches downward, that cups his hand against the bulge in Richie’s pajama pants, that feels the hardness there and rubs at it, and Richie lowers his head to Eddie’s shoulder, letting out a breath. He waits a second, giving Richie the opportunity to pull away, and then he slowly reaches for the waistband of Richie’s pants, and he tugs them down as Richie lifts his hips. He’s staring at Richie’s cock and thinking that maybe he’s going a bit fast, but then Richie turns his head and sucks at Eddie’s neck, and his hands squeeze at Eddie’s ass again, and Eddie sets his reservations on fire and throws them out the fucking window.

He doesn’t worry that he’s doing it wrong, because when he reaches down and wraps his hand around Richie he can feel the other man’s desperate breath against his neck, and he thinks that he could give the worst handjob in this history of the universe and Richie wouldn’t complain. Richie’s been in love with him for thirty fucking years. The thought hits him like a tidal wave, and he experimentally tightens his fingers around the shaft and slowly moves his hand up and then down. 

Richie whimpers.

Eddie grins and does it again. He thinks about what he likes when he jerks himself and runs his thumb over the leaking head. 

Richie jerks against him. “You’re the fucking devil.” He says. “I should have known that you’d be a total tease, you fucking- ah!”

Eddie smiles at him, twisting his hand. “What was that, Rich?”

“You bastard, you-” Richie licks along Eddie’s neck. “You’re such a little shit.”

“You like it.” Eddie tells him, and he feels Richie nod.

“I fucking love it, you never let me get away with all my bullshit, you’re always snarking back and not taking any shit and - oh god - I fucking love it.” Richie is panting. Eddie wishes he could live in this moment. “You’re an annoying bastard-” Okay, Eddie isn’t a huge fan of that part. He moves his hand faster and feels triumphant when Richie’s voice cuts off for a second. “And- and- fuck. Take off your fucking pants.”

Eddie understands what Richie wants, and he’s more than happy to comply. He moves off of Richie’s lap as quickly as he can without hurting himself, and stands up beside the bed, pulling off his sweatpants and underwear. Richie kicks off his own pants from where they were tangled at his knees, and pulls his shirt off over his head. Eddie climbs back onto Richie’s lap, and Richie tuggs off Eddie’s shirt, then he reaches down to grab Eddie’s ass again (which- holy shit), and he kisses his way down Eddie’s chest and takes a nipple into his mouth. 

Eddie’s never had someone suck on his nipples before, but he’s starting to think that he’s been doing his entire life wrong up to this point, and he lets out a breathy moan at the sensation. Richie nips lightly at the nub and then licks it, and he grabs Eddie’s hips and pulls them up, so that Eddie is no longer sitting back on his knees, and Eddie realizes what’s happening the second before Richie takes his cock in his mouth.

Oh fuck.

Oh. _ Fuck _.

Richie clearly knows what he’s doing, and Eddie lets out another moan as Richie pulls back and runs his tongue along the bottom of Eddie’s cock. He sucks lightly on the head and then presses kisses along the shaft before ducking his head to lick at Eddie’s balls, taking each in his mouth lightly for a second before returning his attentions to Eddie’s cock. His eyes are open, and he’s looking at Eddie while he sucks, and his cheeks are pulled in slightly and there’s spit on his lips, on his chin. Eddie thinks the sight might just be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his life.

He opens his mouth to say so but then Richie grabs Eddie’s ass and pulls him forward, so that he takes Eddie’s entire length in his mouth, and all Eddie can do is groan. Fuck. He should have known that Richie would be good with his mouth. Richie uses his hold on Eddie’s hips to fuck his mouth with Eddie’s cock. He feels himself start to teeter on the edge of his orgasm and frantically pulls away, pushing Richie back by his shoulders.

He lowers himself back down onto Richie’s lap and pushes his cock up against Richie’s. The contact makes them both moan, and Richie tips his head back against the headboard as Eddie takes both of them in his fist. He’s moving on instinct, following his own pleasure and paying close attention to how Richie’s body responds to every movement he makes. 

In this position he has a good view of Richie’s naked body for the first time. This is one part of Richie that is almost entirely unfamiliar to him. They’d seen each other naked as kids, but Eddie had moved away before they had finished going through puberty. The Richie he remembers had boney joints and too-long legs and soft features. Now… Well, there’s no better way to say it. Richie is hot. 

He’s not, like, an adonis. He’s a forty year old comedian, not a football player or a personal trainer, but he’s got some muscle, and hair on his chest, and his shoulders are so fucking wide and they look so strong. Eddie wants to bite them. He leans down and runs his tongue down Richie’s neck until he reaches his shoulder, and then he gently bites down, making Richie gasp. 

“Jesus fuck Eddie, are you sure you haven’t done this before?” Richie asks, and Eddie huffs out a laugh against his neck, licking at the spot that he just bit before biting down again. 

Eddie doesn’t see Richie move, but he feels a large hand grasp around his own, which is still wrapped around both their cocks, and the increased pressure makes Eddie see white for a second. He bucks into their hands, heedless of his injuries. He’s close, pleasure building under his skin, sparking down his arms and legs. He’s about to ask Richie if he’s nearing his climax too when Richie starts talking again.

“Oh, fuck, Eds, you’re so fucking beautiful like this.” Richie pants. Eddie feels a blush rise to his cheeks and he’s happy that he’s got his face pressed against Richie’s shoulder so that the other man can’t see. “I always knew you would be. You’re so wound up all the time, I knew that you’d be fucking glorious once you let go.”

Eddie can barely focus on Richie’s words. He speeds up the pace of his hand, and Richie follows his lead. The pressure of Richie’s cock against his own and the friction and the slickness from Richie’s saliva all merge together into a feeling of bliss, and Eddie just has time to gasp out a, “I’m gonna come,” before he’s spurting into their fists. 

It feels like electricity arcing through his body. His back arches, his hands and feet clench, his eyes shut, and he _ moans _. It’s not a sound he’s ever made before, and he thinks that if he was in his normal state of mind he’d be embarrassed. As it is, he can’t bring himself to care, because Richie seems to like the sound, judging by his running commentary. 

Richie speeds up their hands, stroking them through Eddie’s orgasm, and just when Eddie thinks that the oversensitivity is becoming too much, Richie is coming too, and Eddie gets to learn that Richie groans deeply in his throat and clenches his teeth when he comes. Eddie might just be the luckiest fucking man in the whole fucking world.

And then Richie says, “You’re way better in bed than your mother,” and Eddie tries to smother him with a pillow.

-

Eddie makes them clean up almost immediately, because they both have spunk in their chest hair and that’s so fucking gross. Then he changes the sheets on the bed (much to Richie’s consternation) because he’s not going to sleep on dirty sex sheets. Then he makes Richie brush his teeth again, because while Eddie had no reservations about kissing Richie after Richie sucked his cock, he doesn’t want to find out what morning breath smells like when the last thing someone had in their mouth was a penis. 

By the time Eddie’s done, Richie has called him a neat freak sixteen different ways, but he still settles next to Eddie in bed instead of fucking off back to his own room. It should feel weird, or different, for them to lay down next to each other with the express purpose of going to sleep instead of just falling asleep in the same place during a movie marathon, but it doesn’t. Richie lays on his back and Eddie tucks himself under Richie’s arm, and they just fit. It’s comfortable. 

They kiss goodnight, Richie cracks a few jokes in the darkness, and then they’re asleep. 

They wake up at eight a.m., and they get ready together, and make breakfast, and go about their days, and it’s all so fucking natural, so easy. Richie brews coffee. Eddie makes eggs. It feels like they’ve been doing this for years, not less than two weeks. They talk about their plans for the day, and decide on the best way for Eddie to move forward with the process of disentangling himself from his old life, and then they do the dishes.

Eddie sprays Richie with the faucet after Richie makes a particularly bad joke, and then they spend five minutes attempting to get the other person as soaked as possible. Richie eventually fills a (just cleaned) glass with water and dumping in on Eddie's head, then immediately begs for mercy when Eddie turns on what Richie calls his “murder eyes.”

It’s a good morning.

They turn their phones on at the same time, and immediately they begin to ding with messages. Eddie skims through his. There are a few from Myra demanding a response, but most of them are from the other losers. There are over thirty messages in the group chat that they share, and each of them has texted him individually at least once. 

He considers responding to them individually, but instead opens the group chat and suggests they schedule group Skype call. Ben replies immediately, and Mike responds not long after, both agreeing on a time.

At six p.m. Eddie sets up his laptop, makes Richie sit on the couch next to him, and calls the losers. Two boxes appear side by side on the screen. One contains Mike and Bill, who appear to be sitting on the floor in a very nice apartment. The sun is shining through the open window, and they each have a coffee mug set in front of them. Ben and Bev are in the other box, sprawled out on the deck of a boat. A dog sits between them, panting happily. 

Bev is the first of them to speak, “I can’t believe you dropped a bomb like that on us without any explanation, Eddie!”

Ben nods, “Not that it was completely unexpected.”

Mike cuts in, “You guys should have seen them after you left, when it was just the three of us left in Derry. I swear they were five seconds from making out at all times.”

“Mike!” Eddie yelps, “We were not. We weren’t even thinking about that.”

“I totally was,” Richie says, unhelpfully.

“I think someone owes me money.” Bill muses. “I’m pretty sure we had a few bets going about this before Eddie moved away.”

“You bet on us? When we were thirteen?” Eddie asks, shocked.

“I bet on you,” Bill admits, “I wasn’t sure about Richie.”

“Oh!” Ben says, “I remember that! I owe you five dollars, Bill.”’

“Me too.” Bev interjects, “I bet on Richie though, so we’re actually even I think.”

“Stan was the only one who got it all right,” Bill comments. “He bet on both of you, said that only love could make people act so stupid.”

“He always was the smart one.” Richie agrees. Eddie blushes.

“Nobody said anything about love.” Eddie huffs, and Richie grins and throws an arm around his shoulders.

“I did!” He says happily.

“Besides you.”

“What do you mean, besides me?” Richie asks, turning to face Eddie fully while the other continue to converse on the screen.

“I mean you don’t count,” Eddie tells him

“Why don’t I count?”

“I don’t know, you just don’t.” 

“Sounds like you just don’t want to admit that you were wrong.” Richie sing songs, and Eddie resists the urge to punch him. Or kiss him. Richie makes him want to do both in equal measures.

“Nice to see that getting together didn’t make you guys any less argumentative,” Bev calls from the computer.

“Someone’s got to keep his head from getting too big,” Eddie says. “Otherwise he’ll start getting stuck in doorways. He’ll fall down the stairs. It’s a safety hazard for everyone involved.”

Richie pouts, which looks strange on a full-grown man. “I’m getting a divorce.”

“Doesn’t he have to divorce his wife first, before he can divorce you?” Mike asks.

“Don’t remind me,” Eddie tells them. “That is not going to be a fun conversation.”

“You could do what Bev did and have your lawyers handle it all,” Ben suggests, but Eddie shakes his head.

“She’s not a bad person, she deserves to hear it from me. It’s just gonna suck.”

“Well, no matter what, you’ve got us.” Bill tells him. “Losers forever.”

Eddie smiles. “Thanks, Billy.” 

-

The next four days pass much the same. There’s not much for them to do in Derry. They go out to eat together twice. Eddie messages his boss, giving his notice and setting a date for him to arrive back at work to train his replacement. She’s very understanding, Eddie tells her about his recent health issues and that it’s made him want to take a step back and reassess his life, and she agrees wholeheartedly.

Everything seems to be falling into place.

Eddie should have known that it couldn’t possibly last, not with his god forsaken luck.

At about noon, there’s a knock on the door, which is odd, because they don’t know anyone in town that would come to visit, and they aren’t expecting any deliveries. Richie is the one that opens the door, so the first indication Eddie gets of who’s arrived is a loud voice.

“I’m looking for Edward Kaspbrak, the librarian said that I would find him up here.”

Oh fuck.

That’s his wife. That’s Myra.

Eddie considers leaving the living room, locking himself in his bedroom, and waiting for the storm to blow over.

But two and a half weeks ago he fought a demon alien clown. If he can face that shit, he can handle his own wife.

Richie is frozen at the door, his eyes wide, and Eddie pushes himself up from the chair he was sitting at. 

“Are you deaf?” Myra asks, which is a rude way to address a stranger. She never speaks like that unless she’s stressed beyond belief. “I’m looking for Edward, where is he?”

Eddie walks over to Richie, resting a hand on the small of his back. “I’m right here, Myra.” He says, and her attention turns to him.

Oh shit. He was wrong. He’s not ready for this. He’d rather fight the fucking clown again. He’d rather get stabbed in the other cheek by Henry fucking Bowers. Abort. Abort.

Myra is standing in the doorway, her hair is a mess, her face set in grave lines. A small rolling suitcase is set behind her.

Myra never packs light, so she must not be expecting to be in Derry for longer than an evening. Which means that she’s here to get Eddie and go. Fuck.

“Myra.” He says levelly, “What are you doing here?”

Her eyes widen and her lips pinched, an expression that almost always spells trouble. “What am I doing here? I’ve come to take you home. It took me almost two weeks to figure out where you were. I just spent three hours asking people where you were staying, since apparently you checked out of the Derry Townhouse over a week ago!”

“I told you,” Eddie replies. “I’m not coming home yet. I have things to take care of here.”

“What things?” She exclaims, pushing into the loft, dragging her suitcase behind her. Eddie wonders if he should try to keep her in the stairwell but figures that it’d be a lost cause. “You just ran off, no word for days, and what in heaven’s name happened to your face?”

She reaches out as if to touch his bandaged cheek, and he flinches back. Richie steps between them and puts a hand out. “What, are you crazy?” He asks, “Don’t fucking touch the stab wound, lady.”

Eddie sighs. He should have sent Richie into another room. 

“Stab wound?!?” Myra shrieks, reaching out again, only to have Richie slap her arm away.

“Don’t touch it!” He says again, and Eddie really doesn’t want to see his boyfriend get into a fight with his wife, so he puts a calming hand on Richie’s shoulder and turns to face Myra.

“It’s nothing, all patched up. Nothing to worry about.”

“This is why you need me around, Eddie!” Myra chastises. “A few days on your own and you get stabbed. You’re too impulsive, too reckless, you need to come home and let me take care of you.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you look exactly like Eddie’s mother?” Richie asks. Okay. Richie is being the opposite of helpful. Eddie shoots him a glare.

“Excuse me-” Myra begins, pointing a finger at Richie.

“Ignore him.” Eddie says. “Myra, I’m not coming home yet. I…” What is he waiting for? All he wanted was to do this in person, and now here she is, flesh and blood. He takes a deep breath. “I’m not coming home. Not ever.”

“What are you talking about? Of course you’re coming home.” She responds. She’s very good at denial. They made quite the pair.

“No, Myra.” Eddie sighs. “I’m sorry, I… I can’t do this anymore. You’re lovely, and you know I care about you, but I don’t think we’ve been happy for a long time.”

“We’re very happy, Eddie-bear,” Myra replies. Edide-bear. His mom used to call him that. He shudders. How had he not seen the similarities before this week? How had he been so blind?

“No, we’re not. What we have, it’s not a real marriage. Can’t you see that? We don’t even like each other! We don’t talk, or go out, or touch, or fuck. We sleep in different beds!”

“You know that that’s because of my sleep-apne-”

“Yes, I know, I know. But it’s more than that. I don’t love you the way a man is supposed to love his wife. I-” He stutters a little over the next words. “I never have. I’m gay, I think. Or at least queer, and I can’t live a lie anymore. I can’t keep pretending, and denying, and being unhappy.”

It’s terrifying, to say this thing that he’s barely even accepted himself to the woman that he’s been married to for fifteen years, but it also feels liberating. _ ‘It’s out in the open now’ _ He thinks, _ ‘We don’t have to pretend anymore.’ _

But then.

“No you’re not,” Myra says. 

It feels like a slap in the face. Eddie feels Richie stiffen beside him.

“What?” Eddie asks, genuinely confused.

“You’re not gay,” Myra tells him. “You’re just confused, or sick. You’re not gay.”

“Yes, I am.” Eddie says, not caring that he’s not entirely certain if he’s strictly homosexual. That’s not the point here. “Gay as a maypole.”

“Who made you think that?” She asks, “Is it him?” She gestures at Richie.

Now Eddie stiffens.

“He didn’t make me think anything-” He starts, irritated.

“Is that why you came back here? To meet up with this… This man? He’s infected you! He’s lying to you! Sweetheart, he’s filled your head up with lies.”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you.” Richie snorts, which is unhelpful, but Eddie is too angry to try to curb Richie’s sardonic comments.

“He didn’t do anything. He didn’t infect me. It’s not a fucking infection.” He blows a breath out through his nose.

He can’t do this. He can’t fight with her about this. Not when he’s leaving her. Not when he knows he’s breaking her heart. He’s the bad guy here, the homewrecker. She loves him, and she’s just trying to get him to stay. She’s being hurtful, but that doesn’t mean that he has to be hurtful back. “Myra.” He says, trying to make his voice calm and rational. “You’re a lovely wo-”

Richie snorts, Eddie elbows him. “You’re a lovely woman, and any man would be lucky to have you, but I’ve been lying to myself, and to you, for too long. I’m not attracted to you, and I don’t love you, not in the way you want.”

“But I don’t want that!” She wails, suddenly switching from angry to distraught. “I don’t want someone who paws all over me! I want you!”

Eddie sighs. “But I’m not happy Myra. You’ll find someone better for you, I’m sure of it.”

“I don’t want to be alone.” She’s crying now, and Eddie’s chest feels tight. He’s lived with this woman for fifteen years. And yeah, they’re terrible for each other, but he does care about her. She’s been his family, his home, his wife. He steps forward and puts his arms around her. She clings to him tightly.

“So don’t be alone.” He tells her. “You have so many friends, and a big family. Ask someone to stay with you for a bit. This is for the best, I’m sure of it. We’ll both end up happier. I know that you don’t like change, because it’s scary and uncertain and it’s full of risk, but sometimes it needs to happen.”

He glances back at Richie, who has his arms crossed over his chest and his brow furrowed. Eddie smiles at him, and Richie’s gaze softens slightly.

“It’s taken me a long time to realize that sometimes risk is a good thing. If you want to have the best parts of life, sometimes you need to take a chance.”

She’s still crying, but it’s softer now, and she’s relaxed her death grip. When she speaks, her voice is small. “There’s no changing your mind?” 

He shakes his head, and she seems to deflate.

“We’ll both be so much happier, just wait and see.” He tells her. “It’s all gonna turn out okay.”

-

Myra stays for dinner, which is awkward, to say the least. They order in from a italian restaurant, and She frets about the salt content of the food and the fact that Eddie has a predisposition for high cholesterol so he has to watch his salt intake. Richie crinkles up his nose, but Eddie just smiles. Now that she’s agreed to a divorce, he can’t bring himself to mind her worrying. At least she still cares.

Eddie tells her everything he can about why he left so suddenly and why he’s stayed away so long. He explains that he had to meet up with old friends to fulfil a promise, that he had gotten injured when a former bully escaped from an insane asylum, that Richie had stayed behind to help Eddie get better, and it had brought back old memories from their childhood and made Eddie realize what he had been denying.

She cries a little more, then fusses over Eddie’s dressings and criticizes Richie’s wrapping technique, and then once again asks if he’s certain that he wants a divorce, but in the end she wishes him the best. It’s odd, Eddie thinks, how okay she seems to be with the prospect of him sleeping with another person, being with another person. She’s more focused on the divorce than on the fact that he has a boyfriend. It seems to him that she only really wants him around as company, someone to care for, to worry about, to control. 

Maybe she never loved him the right way either. Maybe they were both looking for the same messed up thing in their marriage. Maybe now she can figure out what she really wants, and go get it. 

Maybe.

She leaves after dinner to catch her return flight to New York, alone, and then the loft is quiet. 

Suspiciously quiet.

Richie is doing dishes, which isn’t unusual, but he’s not chattering about an article he read, or cracking jokes, or humming along to a song stuck in his head. He’s silent. Eddie comes over to stand next to him, and when Richie doesn’t acknowledge him, he leans to the side and bumps his arm against Richie’s.

“Hey,” Eddie says. “What’s up with you.”

“Hm.” Richie hums. 

Eddie frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Richie insists.

“You’re a terrible liar.” 

“It’s seriously nothing, everything’s fine.”

“Richie.”

Richie turns off the water and dries his hands with jerky movements. He runs a hand through his hair.

“I don’t understand why you’re so nice to her.” He admits. “Which is terrible because I should love that you’re a nice person, but she was terrible all evening. She was all criticisms and crying and telling you what you are, what I am. She called it a _ disease _ , Eds, she said I _ infected _ you.” 

Richie’s voice cracks on the last two words, and Eddie could kick himself. He should have known that that kind of language would affect Richie. 

He steps in front of Richie, so that they’re face to face, and reaches up to cup the other man’s face in his hands.

“I’m sorry that she said that. It was wrong.” He says, because it needs to be said. “But I’ve known her for a long time, Rich, and arguing wouldn’t have solved anything. She was hurt, so she said something hurtful, but she’s not a bad person.”

“She said I wrapped up your bandage wrong. I did it how the nurse showed me, I swear.” Richie mumbles, looking a bit embarrassed. 

“You did it perfectly.” Eddie tells him. “That’s just how she shows that she cares. It’s messed up, but I’m used to it.”

“I still don’t like her.” Richie says. Which, okay, fair.

“You don’t have to. You know why?”

Richie’s lip twitches slightly and he looks Eddie in the eyes.”Because you’re getting a divorce?”

Eddie nods. “Because I’m getting a divorce. I’m all yours, baby.”

Richie seems to like that, because he smiles impossibly wide and pulls Eddie into his chest. He buries his face in Eddie’s hair for a second before hunching downwards slightly and grabbing the back of Eddie’s thighs, hoisting him up. Eddie laughs and wraps his legs around Richie’s waist, once again moving on instinct. 

“All mine?” Richie asks, and Eddie nods.

When their lips meet it’s a languid and soft kiss. It feels like something precious, something to desperately hold on to, something to fight for. But they don’t need to fight anymore, they’ve made it through the hardest part. Eddie doesn’t have to worry about losing this, not anymore.

They’ve got all the time in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! You guys have been so nice while I've been writing this, the supportive comments have been amazing. 
> 
> If you've got questions about what happens next (Does Richie write his own comedy? Do they get married? Do they adopt a dog? Etc.) Worry not! This fic might be done, but the story isn't. Subscribe to the series if you want to get updates when I start my next fic in the series. I'm currently planning a little something called "Happily" that will be a series of one-shots about all the losers through the years.


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